Gimme Shelter
by Dulcedecorumest
Summary: Some months before SPN Season 1  May 2005 , Dean Winchester bumps into Faith in a town in Nevada. He saves her life after she's fought a demon but he does not know she is a Slayer.
1. Chapter 1

_**Fic: Gimme Shelter (1/5)**_  
><strong>Title:<strong> Gimme Shelter  
><strong>Author:<strong> Dulcedeusex  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I DO NOT OWN. All recognizable characters and situations belong to their respective owners and I make no profit off this.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Fandom's:<strong> Supernatural/Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Dean Winchester, Faith Lehane (in this chapter)

**Type:** GEN, HET, pre-SPN S1

**Pairing(s):** Faith/Dean

**Spoilers:** SPN pre-season 1, BtVS post-Chosen, AtS post-Not Fade Away  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Some months before SPN Season 1 (May 2005), Dean Winchester bumps into Faith in a town in Nevada. He saves her life after she's fought a demon but he does not know she is a Slayer.

**Art:** sucksucksmile it's so amazing, you're so amazing! I need new superlatives! But you're truly awesome. Fic wouldn't have been complete without your input and your hard work.

**Author's Notes:** This story is dedicated to the amazing **dollarformyname**, without her this would never have been published and if it had it would have been so crap! I'm also dedicating it to all the **SPN/BtVS/AtS** crossover writers whose works inspired me to try this in the first place.

_**Oh, a storm is threat'ning**_

_**My very life today**_

_**If I don't get some shelter**_

_**Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away**_ - Gimme Shelter, Rolling Stones

**GIMME SHELTER**

Faith limped out of the woods and onto the dark highway, her right hand straying up to the gaping hole that was leaking powerful Other Slayer blood with every hitching breath she took. Blinking away the stars that danced in the periphery of her blurry vision she bit her lip as she began the walk back towards the roach motel currently housing her meager possessions and, most importantly, her first aid kit.

She silently took stock of her injuries.

The twisted left ankle and dislocated left shoulder were definitely not good.

Neither were the two to four broken ribs on the right. She was not quite clear how many were broken because the whole area throbbed with pain. Especially the one that was poking out of her rib cage and costing her precious blood by the second; that rib was not making the hike back any easier. If she didn't need it to protect her lungs she would have just snapped it off and tossed it into the yawning pit that was final resting place of the Gravron demon that had broken it.

The urge to stop and just lie down on the fecund earth lining the edges of the road was overwhelming but Faith knew that if she stopped now, lost her jerky, pain-filled momentum, she would not see the sun rise tomorrow. Fast-slayer healing and all, but this time, mortality was just not impressed.

So with a brutal clenching of her jaw she turned her mind away from her injuries and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. She was no damsel in distress, she was no newly awakened Slayerette, she was the goddamned Other Slayer, the darker half of the Original Chosen Two, goddamnit. She had just fought a seven-foot-tall evil sonofabitch that had taken out four experienced Slayerettes a week and a half ago.

She was Faith Lehane, the girl that the wrong side of the tracks, the girl Kakistos, Sunnydale, Wolfram & Hart, prison, Angelus, the First and a few more apocalypses had failed to kill. No, she had come too fucking far, lost too fucking much, and she was not going to die anonymously in the woods of Bumfuckville, Famous for Watching Paint Dry, USA. Not a chance. Not tonight.

-xx-

Dean fiddled with his tape deck as he rewound his AC/DC tape back to the beginning. He peered at the deserted highway intermittently to make sure he did not end up hitting a deer or any other skittish animal likely to dart into the Impala's bright beams. Foot heavy on the gas, he whooped with joy when the tape reached the end with a loud clicking sound. Pressing play he tapped the steering wheel excitedly as the first strains of '_Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap_' filtered through the speakers.

Distractedly eyeing the road, Dean fumbled on the passenger seat for his whiskey flask, letting go of the steering wheel and using his knees to keep the car steady as he opened the container. His cell phone blinked right then and he reached with his right hand to pick it up, giving a relieved sigh as he passed the 'Welcome to Bello, Nevada' sign. It had been a long drive and he was just looking forward to getting some rest before he started his hunt in the morning.

Looking at the screen Dean shrugged as he realized it was not a call, his cell phone battery was low, yet another reason he was looking forward to stopping soon. John might call with a lead on the demon he was secretively hunting (it must be very personal, if his Dad was intentionally withholding information), or one of his Dad's with some more background information on what he was gonna have to hunt tomorrow. Or maybe even Sammy Dearest, the one who'd gotten away from it all and was on the way to living a reasonably normal life would condescend from Mount Righteous Obstinance and give his big brother a call.

Dean took another swig out of his flask then shrugged reflexively, shutting the door on any feelings of betrayal or self-loathing that always threatened to drown him whenever he was on the road to nowhere on yet another soon-to-be forgotten hunt. Wedging the flask between his thighs, Dean steered with his left hand and screwed the cap back on with his right. The Impala swerved a little off-course as he turned the music up for the guitar riff, then swerved again violently as Dean caught a figure weaving out of his blind side and onto the road. He slammed on the brakes, skidding across the tarmac and into the other lane, swearing profusely as the Impala burnt expensive inches of rubber, then shuddered to a halt. Dean swore again loudly as he turned on his hazards and leapt out of the car.

"Are you fucking crazy? What are you doing, you irresponsible drunk!"

The rumpled almost-victim clutched the brown, paper bag closer and flipped him the bird as he ambled off into the trees. Dean clenched his fists in fury and with another string of epithets, got back in the Impala and drove off. His heart was racing and his lips were drawn in a flat compressed line that would have made his sanctimonious little brother proud.

He shut the music off with an aggressive jab of the eject button. His good mood ruined, Dean observed the speed limit, driving the rest of the way into town with both hands on the wheel.

-xx-

Dean shouldered his duffel bag and slammed the trunk of the Impala shut as he took out his newly procured motel room keys from his back pocket and cast a critical eye over the lodgings. This was a new low, even for him. The entire façade of the building was a dirty, cracked and peeling indeterminable brownish grey. He squashed down the urge to shudder and started to walk up to his door. Taking out his protesting cell phone he switched it off then tucked it back into his front pocket. When he looked back up, he growled low in his throat with irritation; yet another one of this town's drunks was half walking, half stumbling to the room next to him. No wonder something was eating this town's children - divine intervention to prevent them from turning into fucking degenerate adults.

As he got closer, Dean's eyes widened in shock, this one wasn't some unshaven hobo but a chick, and a young one at that. Dressed in dark jeans, steel-toed boots, a gray hooded sweat-shirt and a black leather jacket, Dean guessed she was probably a drug-addict.

Faith heard her breath rasp and gurgle in her chest and bit down even harder on her lip. _Come on girl, just a few more steps and you're home free!_ She noticed the guy walking towards her and prayed he would just walk away and not try and hit on her. Human or vampire she did not want to play.

As Dean got closer to the girl, his eyes narrowed sharply, under the dim lighting of the motel sign he could see the blood and mud on her face and there was something wrong with her right side which she was holding tightly.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Brown fiery eyes met his and Dean was reminded of a cornered wounded animal. The girl stopped at her door and smiled at him humorlessly.

"I'm five by five. Now move it along, asshole. I'm not selling anything and I sure as fuck am not buying anything."

Dean would have been a whole lot more intimidated if she didn't finish off by bending over and coughing up bloody spit. Instinctively he leaned forward and put his arm around her to offer support. It was only when he caught the dull gleam of the 6-inch blade she dropped out of her sleeve that Dean appreciated just how much he _should_ be intimidated by her.

Jumping out of the way Dean stared at her in surprise; the knife had missed his face by half an inch.

Faith grinned for a second, back against the door and subtly fighting to hold onto the knife in her blood-slicked hand. Dean dropped his duffel bag and held both his palms up.

"Okay sorry, no unauthorized touching but, by the looks of the blood dripping on the floor, sister, you need medical attention." His tone was half amused, half matter of fact.

"Not that it's any of your fucking business, but I've got a first aid kit in my room," Faith rasped.

Her vision was still blurred but she could distinguish the handsome lines of his face and body. She prayed this hot asshole would just get the message and leave her alone; she was operating on fumes here, and she was not in the mood.

Dean studied her intently, weighing how much strength she had left in her if he tried to wrestle the knife from her. As if she had read his mind, Faith straightened a little, her stance shifting in anticipation of an attack. Dean shrugged, making a split-second decision.

"Okay, sorry I bothered you. I'm just gonna pick up my duffel and go into my room. This is my key, see? It's got the same number as the door next to you."

He inched closer, keeping his eyes trained on her, right hand still holding up his room key for her to see. Bending down slightly he picked up his bag with his left hand. Faith did not speak, not sure she was still able to talk and breathe at the same time. Dean walked away from her with his back to the door, eyes still trained on her. Unlocking his door he gave her one last look before stepping into his room and shutting himself in.

Faith turned around, one eye on Dean's door, put the knife hilt in her mouth and, wiping her blood-slick palm on her left thigh, reached forward and broke the door handle. She had lost her room key and cell phone at some point during her fight with the Gravron demon. As soon as she crossed the threshold she feebly pushed the door shut and fell to her knees, letting out a strangled cry of pain as the action jarred her broken ribs. Dizzy, she fell backwards, landing on her back and facing the door.

_Not good, to the power of infinity._

Dean set his duffel down and picked up the motel room phone muttering a fervent plea that it was working. He smiled in relief when he got a dial tone and called 911; he was no college graduate but Dean knew injuries and that girl was too banged up to _not_ call the emergency services. She could thank him when she lived, or not. He was betting on not if that blade and her willingness to use it was anything to go by. His lips twisted in a pained grin; he liked that about her.

Reading the motel name off his room key, he told a nasal-sounding woman that there was mugging victim in need of assistance. Putting the phone down, Dean unearthed his current fake driver's licence and then strode out of the room.

Faith's fingers scrabbled against the dirty, maroon carpet, futilely trying to find the knife that she had dropped when she fell. She was not gonna go down without a fight!

Dean pushed her room door open and began to approach; Faith bit back the panicked whimper of fear that unfurled in her chest. She was the Slayer, damnit, and if this bow-legged guy was going to finish her off she would not give him the satisfaction of showing fear.

Dean crouched down and picked up her blade. This guy had to be some kind of pervert - what else would a young good-looking guy like him be doing at a motel that made her old room in Sunnydale look like a suite at the Bellagio?

Dean made a cursory sweep of her room. He did not see anything else that would raise police questions so, pocketing the knife, he turned back to her, kneeling by her head. Her eyes shot him daggers.

"I'm Dean, Dean Winchester, and I promise you I'm not a psycho… or a sicko. But I'm gonna keep your knife safe for you, okay?"

She tried to speak but her breath came out in a gurgle and Dean instantly lifted her head onto his lap, his hand moving down her body to check for broken bones. She stiffened in protest but the strength to move seemed to have deserted her.

Dean noted her dislocated shoulder with a sympathetic intake of breath. Faith hissed when he touched her ribs and Dean pulled his hand away, making soothing sounds.

"It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you. The ambulance will be here soon," he reassured her.

Faith was fading in and out, playing tag with consciousness. He must think she was stupid; she had not seen or heard him call anybody. Bitterly she observed heightened Slayer senses had to be good for something. Even if in this case they were telling her to abandon all hope.

Faith was also struggling to shake the eerie feeling that she was having déjà vu. Despite her best efforts not to explore this feeling any further, she remembered another skeevy motel room. When she had killed that very first demon for the Mayor. He too had died injured and alone, having foolishly put his trust in an attractive face. So had Alan Finch, his own breath gurgling out of his chest, much like hers was doing right now.

Pain and despair flooded through her. This sick bastard was gonna hurt her, maybe kill her. And Slayer strength and a special destiny were not going to save her from this ignoble death.

An unwanted tear trickled out of her eye as she realized that she was going to die anonymously in a seedy motel in the middle of nowhere like she had never mattered. Her mother had always said 'blood will out' and it made her murderously angry that after everything she had been through and done, she was going to prove her right. Karma was a bitch.

Dean saw Faith's right fist clench and he looked back into her eyes, trying very hard not to look at the bone jutting out of her rib cage. He felt something tug in his chest as her eyes spat anger, fear, dread and sorrow at him. Something about what he saw there reminded Dean of himself; she was a fighter, a loner, and she too had done things she was not proud of. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he realized that was happening to her could happen to him one day. Subconsciously he stroked her blood-soaked and mud-encrusted hair away from her face and tried to give her an encouraging smile.

"I called 911 as soon as I got into my room, here's hoping they've got more than one ambulance. If they're not here in five minutes I'll carry you to my car and drive you to a hospital myself. I know you don't trust me, that's why I didn't offer to take you earlier but I'm here to help… and just ignore the fact that I'm actually boarding in this nasty-ass skid-mark of a motel when I say that," he added with a cheeky grin.

Faith's eyes twinkled briefly at the last part and Dean beamed in response, blinding her with the intensity of his smile. It was like staring at the sun. Without thinking she smiled back, her fist uncurling of its own volition. Dean took her hand in his, stroking her hair back with his left hand now. He heard the faint, distinctive wail of a siren and squeezed her hand.

"The cavalry's here. Present digs aside, I knew this town wouldn't let me down. Just gotta have a little faith."

Her mouth weakly turned up at the corners at this; now it was guaranteed she wasn't going to die yet, after all. The PTB had a weird sense of humor and they never liked to waste a good joke, no matter how lame it was. The fake ID in her back pocket calling her Julia Desmond, meant that if she kicked it, nobody would get the joke. The sirens became louder, drawing closer as Faith lost her tenacious grip on consciousness.

-xxx-


	2. Chapter 2

_**Fic: Gimme Shelter (2/5)**_  
><strong>Title:<strong> Gimme Shelter  
><strong>Author:<strong> Dulcedeusex  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I DO NOT OWN. All recognizable characters and situations belong to their respective owners and I make no profit off this.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Fandom's:<strong> Supernatural/Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Dean Winchester, Faith Lehane (in this chapter)

**Type:** GEN, HET, pre-SPN S1

**Pairing(s):** Faith/Dean

**Spoilers:** SPN pre-season 1, BtVS post-Chosen, AtS post-Not Fade Away  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Some months before SPN Season 1, Dean Winchester bumps into Faith in a town in Nevada. He saves her life after she's fought a demon but he does not know she is a Slayer.

**Author's Notes:** This story is dedicated to the amazing dollarformyname, without her this would never have been published and if it had it would have been so crap! I'm also dedicating it to all the SPN/BtVS/AtS crossover writers whose works inspired me to try this in the first place.

Also, chapter two to the epilogue have been linked onto because LJ decided to give me problems on posting day! The post was supposed to be its own separate entity but c'est la vie.

_**The floods is threat'ning**_

_**My very life today**_

_**Gimme, gimme shelter**_

_**Or I'm gonna fade away**_ – Gimme Shelter, Rolling Stones

**Gimme Shelter – Chapter 2**

Faith woke up as if she was ascending various stages of awareness. First was the awareness of self: she was Faith Lehane, a woman and a Slayer. Then came the knowledge that she was injured and lying down somewhere. The fingers on her left hand twitched from prolonged inertia as she silently took stock of her surroundings. She could hear the heart monitor, and the generally muffled sounds in the room that signified she was in a hospital bed. Carefully making sure her breathing stayed regular, she tried to assess her injuries, her mind alarmingly blank .

There was a recently sutured wound on her right hand side. Was she still in Sunnydale? Buffy had slid the knife Mayor Wilkins had given her, into her gut. It had gone in like her abdomen was made of butter. Faith suppressed a shudder as she remembered the sensation of being impaled by her own knife. Very cautiously, she contracted her abdominal muscles and let a small gust of air out in relief; this injury was too high and far on the right to be Buffy's. Unless they had fought again for some other reason? Wait, why would Buffy fight her when they had had that sort of sweet, sister Slayers moment at that dingy pub on Liverpool Street? The one where Buffy had gotten her drunk and let her talk about the pain of breaking up with Robin Wood, her first real boyfriend?

There was a half-reflexive contraction of her abdominal muscles, at the thought of Wood. Faith felt the catheter chafe inside her. She stifled a shudder and fought very hard not to grit her teeth. Since when did a Slayer get hurt so bad as to need a catheter? She must've been in a coma. Again. Taking a deep breath she felt the tubes that were bringing in much needed oxygen into her lungs. Her blood froze with remembered pain and panic. Was she really still in Sunnydale? Had the last two years been a coma-dream?

Faith decided, wherever the hell she was, she was done playing possum. Besides trips down Painful Memory Lane really weren't all they were cracked up to be. She sat up in the bed abruptly, ripping the oxygen tube out of her nostrils and moving to pull out the drip in her right arm, when she spotted him. The fog in her mind cleared almost instantaneously. Dean Winchester. So the California Hellmouth had definitely gone ka-boom. Thank God.

Dean Winchester, huh? The guy outside the roach motel who she'd thought was going to kill her. He'd called an ambulance, and saved her life after a Gravron demon had done his best to make good on his threat to snap her like "a birch twig for kindling". His words, not hers. Faith didn't know what birch was; wood was wood.

She felt a rush of satisfaction as she remembered how she had slid her six-inch Spanish blessed blade into its eye-socket before snapping its ginormous neck. Then she had snapped _him_ like a twig and set him on fire in the gravel pit he had thrown her in and tried to leave for dead.

Dean woke up with a start as he felt eyes on him, left hand subtly dropping Faith's six-inch blade closer to his palm until he realized it was the woman of the moment herself, watching him sleep with a half wary, half victorious gleam in her eyes.

"Morning, sweetheart. Like what you see, huh?" Dean said with an easy grin.

Faith's lips twisted in a cynical smile. "Roach motel kick you out? What are you doing sleeping in my room?" Her voice croaked from disuse.

Faith scowled, it sounded too much like weakness when she needed to be strong. Dean subtly hiked the weapon back up his sleeve and then rubbed the sleep from his eyes, yawning discreetly behind his knife hand. He sat up straight and, crossing one leg across the other knee, he dragged a hand down his face and gave her a cocky grin.

"I thought you might need protecting. The guy who attacked you did quite a number on you."

"Yeah, well, you should see what I did to him."

Dean's eyebrow went up a fraction. "The doctors couldn't figure out how you were still alive. After they gave me a list of your injuries and told me how much blood you lost, neither could I."

"You moonlight as a doctor slash bodyguard, when you're not going around sticking your nose where it doesn't belong?" Faith quipped with hostility.

Dean kept his green gaze on her, "No, but when they give you statistics that can never be wrong, and then tell you how much less blood you have than that, yet you're still breathing? Gotta wonder."

Faith's eyes became guarded and she looked away from him, focusing on her clenched fists resting on her lap and fervently wishing Dean wasn't here so she could yank the catheter out. It was seriously pissing her off. And the Slayer healing had been noticed so she evidently needed to get the hell out of Dodge.

"So what day is it today?"

Dean noted the clenched fists and the change of subject. He couldn't help the spark of irritation he felt at her diversionary tactic or brush-off. He had saved her life, goddamnit. She could at least try and be more subtle about it.

"Tuesday."

Faith nodded confidently, while she frantically tried to remember what day it had been when she had fought the Gravron demon. Dean watched her struggle with herself and wondered why he had to rescue the one girl in the world that was even thornier than he was.

"How long've I been out?"

Dean shrugged. "I found you on Saturday night."

Faith schooled her features not to register her shock; the last time she had been out for more than a few hours was in Sunnydale. After Buffy put her in a coma. Man she hated comas. New life plan: don't fall into another coma. The next lights-out better be the big one.

"Dude, do you think you could get the fuck out of my room now? I don't mean to be rude- Oh wait, I do. If you've been hanging around my room for the last three days hoping I would give you some kinda reward or become your pimp-object, I can tell you right now it's not gonna happen."

Wow. This chick was even more ungrateful than he'd thought she'd be.

"I don't want anything from you."

Faith's smile did not reach her eyes. "Sure, you don't. But thing is, I've seen myself in the mirror so-"

"Don't know what you looked like before, sweetheart, but right now you look like a freshly taken shit."

Faith didn't flinch, on the outside. "And you've been hanging around my room for three days cause you were all out of kittens in trees to rescue."

"Actually, I've been hanging around 'cause I'm bored. See, surprise, surprise, my motel room TV was broke. So was yours and I couldn't get into your laptop because I didn't have the password."

Faith's features darkened. "You went through my stuff?"

Dean chuckled mirthlessly. "Uh, yeah. That's what I just said. I'd be a little more grateful if I was you, since I found your collection of hunting knives and your crossbow before the cops did. Now what's that about?"

"You are so dead."

"Yeah, I can see you killing me in my sleep in about…oh, 2 months time. It's about how long it'll take for your three broken ribs and your 26 stitches to heal."

Faith made to stand up then remembered the fucking catheter up her crotch. Sonofabitch. She hated hospitals and she definitely hated comas!

"So what's your real name? 'Cause come on, Julia Desmond? Totally fake."

Faith directed her whiskey-brown eyes at Dean's smirking face and smiled sweetly as she gave him the finger.

"Go fuck yourself. How's that for my real name?"

Dean chuckled, then stood up, "Too many syllables. Not gonna tell just yet, okay, I'll let it go for now. We need to work on your trust issues, Xena. They're totally suffocating the room."

Faith tensed as he approached the bed and then reached forward to tuck a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear. She seriously contemplated punching his lights out, then remembered she wasn't supposed to be alive, let alone painting the hospital room walls with Dean Winchester's blood. If she wanted to get out of here with as little attention drawn as possible, she would have to curb the urge to do Dean a little damage.

"Xena?"

Dean shrugged as he stepped away and headed for the door. "Yeah, you know: warrior princess, kicks ass, takes names and no numbers… except for Hercules and Gabrielle's if memory serves."

"Where are you going?"

Dean stepped out of the room and held the door ajar. "To let the staff know you're out of the woods, why? Miss me already?"

"No. I just want my shit back!" Faith called after the closed and unyielding door. She could have screamed when she heard Dean chuckle as he walked away.

He was way too fucking smug and too hot for his own good. Or Faith's.

-xxx-

Dean watched the police interrogate 'Julia Desmond' through the hospital room's half drawn blinds. He could just picture what the cops were asking her and, based on her body language, he could tell that whatever 'Julia' was saying in response was all lies.

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards. She may be able to fool the useless fucks this town called law enforcement but she could not fool him. Dean was a professional at studying people, he always had been. Had to be in order to gauge Dad's various mood swings and what kind of trouble they spelled for him and Sammy. At the thought of his little brother, Dean felt his smile die a sudden death. It would have been so great if Sam was here now; he could charm the rattle off a rattlesnake, and would totally have been able to disarm 'Julia's' defensive isolationist crap and get her to open up. Sam had that way about him, always had had it. Must've got it from Mom, 'cause Dad didn't seem capable of remembering what it was like to be likable or, well… liked.

Dean palmed 'Julia's' knife and wondered about the girl in the hospital bed. A cursory check-up by the attending MD before the cops were let in to question 'Julia' had both excited and perturbed the salt-and-pepper haired man. He had walked out of the room and mumbled something about 'incredible healing rate' to Dean before he had rushed off to consult with some colleagues.

That made Dean's hunter instincts tingle in an annoyingly distracting kind of way. His inner sense of preservation warned him that, the Doctor's reaction was not a good sign. He suddenly felt anxious, willing the cops to wrap it up already so he could talk to 'Julia' a little more.

Dean had found the charred remains of a 7 foot giant monster of some kind on Monday and the info he had given an old friend of his Dad's had yielded some interesting results. It was almost a 100% certainty that those were the remains of whatever had been eating the town's children, so there was no longer a case to solve. Dean had noted the trail of blood that traveled up the pit and out into the woods, so in the interest of preserving the anonymity of whatever fellow hunters had taken this thing down, he had gotten rid of the forensic evidence. But he had noted there was only one set of human prints out of the pit and he'd taken a swab of blood to get it checked at some future date.

Looking down at the knife in his left hand, Dean immediately discounted the possibility that Faith was a demon, he had injected her IV with holy water, and she handled silver with no qualms. He momentarily entertained the possibility that the fellow hunter was 'Julia' then shook his head. It was not possible. Julia was no more than 5'4" on a tall day, penchant for violence and strange fascination with knives and crossbows aside, she did not have anything else that symbolised 'hunter'. She had no rock salt, no hex bags, no spell books, and one itty bitty bottle of holy water that was more likely to piss a demon off than hurt it or kill it. And she evidently didn't have any accomplices, unless they had split up after the hunt, but that didn't make much sense either, 'Julia' was hurt pretty bad when he'd found her, no self-respecting man or human being for that matter would have intentionally left her like that. No, she couldn't be responsible for the demon corpse in the gravel pit. Judging from the underlying tones of South Boston in her speech, she was probably just a Catholic girl that had lost her way, a lot. Dean liked that about her.

Besides, jaded air of worldliness and trust issues aside, 'Julia' was barely more than a kid, she could not be older than 22. Sammy's age. Or at least she did not look it when she was lying in that hospital bed, comatose and bruised.

The door to her room opened and the two police officers inclined their heads at Dean before walking away and towards reception. Dean caught the comment of the shorter one between the two as they thought they were out of earshot.

"Same as always with that part of town. Dark alley, big guy, debilitating fear and no I couldn't pick him in a line up, it all happened so fast. But, hey, at least she's alive."

Dean bit back a grin at Julia's description; that could be anybody, anywhere. She definitely had something to hide and he had a feeling that whoever had attacked her was not going to forget her face anytime soon. He pushed the door open and grinned at the way her carefully schooled features of innocence shifted into an irritable scowl. Oh yeah, he was getting to her.

"So Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee over there said I should thank you for saving my life, twice. Apparently you gave me some of your blood."

Dean shrugged nonchalantly. "No big deal. Had nothing else to do on a Saturday night."

"Yeah well, thanks. I'll pay you back in installments." Faith said with a wicked grin.

Dean made a face as he understood her meaning.

Faith let out a husky chuckle, her brown eyes sparkling with double entendres and the promise to fulfill all sexual fantasies. Dean's eyes narrowed sharply as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall, facing her still.

"Is there anyone you want me to call, Julia?"

Faith raised a wary eyebrow, then shrugged, a faraway expression in her eyes. She thought about the indecipherable thing called family and all she could see was Buffy.

"Actually, it's Faith. And yeah, I kinda got a sister, but she's in Europe and we so don't do the talking thing. More like the fist-fighting and kicking each other's fucking faces in thing… whenever we _do_ cross paths."

Dean's features clouded over as he immediately thought of Sam. "Yeah, I get that."

Faith beamed at him, her lips stretching in a predatory manner. "Well, since you and I have so much in common… you gave me your _blood_, we're gonna be BFFs, yada yada yada… how bout you help me bust outta Alcatraz?"

Dean scowled at her. "Uh, Faith? In case you didn't notice you're in no condition to be busting outta nowhere. 'Sides, hospital food is just too good to pass up now that you don't have to eat it through a tube. They got the most _awesome_ pudding."

Faith gave him a smug smile and tossed her hair back, more of her old confidence reasserting itself.

"Okay, Deano, you can't be _that_ stupid. But just in case your looks suck up all the brain juice, let me break it down for you. I'm not into the white walls, Star Trek gadgets monitoring my every breath and oh yeah, peeing through a tube. In fact it's all pretty far away from my five year plan."

"Then maybe you shouldn't carry knives, and stay in motels so shady even the wrong side of town don't want nothing to do with them. You can't even have a one year plan with that M.O."

He pushed himself away from the wall and rested his hands on the steel frame at the foot of her bed.

Faith rolled her eyes then gave him a pained look. "Speaking of knives, where's my baby at?"

"It's in a safe place."

She nodded as she digested this and also contemplated how willing he was to help her get out of the hospital. Faith asked herself how Buffy would put it, then shrugged before she could answer her own question. She would leave the cautious nature to Buffy; she always had been more rock 'em sock 'em anyway.

"Dude, let's try this again. I'm a little bit Lite on the law-abiding citizen gig and seeing as the _cops_ used a different name when they mentioned _your_ name… and I remember the part of town we met in, you gotta be too. So are you gonna help me or not?"

Dean made an exaggerated 'oh' face then smirked. "Are you saying you're _not _a girl scout? Damn."

Faith's fists clenched into white-knuckled balls of fury and she had to smile an extra-chilling grin to stop herself from vaulting out of the bed and knocking his lights out, catheter and all.

Dean almost flinched at the coldness of Faith's smile, if you could even call it that. It was like a naked blade glinting between her dry, chapped lips. This chick had some serious anger management issues.

He met her frosty grin with a devil-may-care twist of his lips that Dean knew made all the females melt. "Jeez, from one law-lite citizen to another, you need to find the fun a little. But first things first, I gotta go back to the motel and pack us up."

Faith remembered telling Buffy to find the fun a little, several lifetimes ago when a town called Sunnydale had not known what had hit it.

Dean watched with satisfaction as her body relaxed a little. "How do I know you'll be back?"

Dean almost laughed out-loud; trust issues were really high on her list of baggage apparently.

"You don't. But I'd hope to think that my presence here for the last 3 days would be a ringing endorsement as to my trustworthiness."

Faith shot him a sceptical look. He shot her a cheeky grin.

"At least when it comes to you, that is."

Something soft and intangible blossomed in Faith's chest. "Bet you say that to all the girls."

"If you think I'm trying to get laid, you are so far off course. I don't usually have to have a knife pulled on me, donate blood or hang around for three days while a chick is in a coma just to try and get in her panties." Dean's knuckles whitened as he gripped the bed frame tightly.

Faith shrugged guiltily and looked away from him before meeting his eyes again. "Sorry. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not big on the T word."

"Tits or trust?"

She smiled despite herself, and met his twinkling green gaze. Man, this dude was all kinds of hot.

"_Trust,_ you tit."

Dean smiled in response to her lightening demeanor. "Try saying that three times fast."

She let out a rusty but genuine laugh and Dean felt like he had been rewarded a million bucks. He quashed the glowing pride that swelled in his chest.

"Okay, Batman, get in the Batmobile and pack our stuff for us."

Dean saluted her smartly, grinning all the way. "Sure thing, Robin."

Faith's smile died a sudden and crushing death, her eyes darkening with remembered pain. Dean felt like a cloud had come and blotted out the sun. His shoulders slumped slightly in defeated resignation; it had been nice to make someone genuinely smile for once. For the five seconds it had lasted! Almost instantaneously, an uneasy silence settled between them as Dean floundered for something to say or do to bring back that husky, tentative but real mirth he had just witnessed.

The hospital room door opened silently and both Faith and Dean tensed, immediately on high alert for an attack. Dean subtly let Faith's knife drop into his hidden left palm for the third time that day. He turned around, and let out the breath he had not realized he had been holding. It was the doctor that had treated Faith.

"Hello, Miss Desmond. I'm Dr. Jones. I thought I'd take a longer and harder look at you, then give you my prognosis."

"Hi, doc. Please call me… Julia."

The middle-aged doctor looked at Dean pointedly and without thinking Dean turned a silently questioning gaze on Faith. She wasn't paying attention, watching the doctor with a wary yet predatory gaze. Dean wondered if it was wishful thinking on his part that made him worry for the doctor's safety.

Dr. Jones was now standing by her left side, and he looked down at Faith intently as he put on his stethoscope and then pressed it to her left wrist. He held up his other wrist, checking the seconds on his wristwatch.

"So any extreme pain or discomfort?"

Faith grinned at the doctor. "Yeah actually, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind taking this fucking catheter out? It's rubbing against my clit and not in the good way."

Dean coughed to smother the laughter that bubbled up at the doctor's reaction. He was stuttering out an incoherent response and his face was turning a vibrant red. Faith raised twinkling eyes to meet Dean's, then inclined her chin slightly, dismissing him.

"Okay then, doc. I think I'll leave you two…uh, to it. Julia, I'll be back for evening visiting hours."

Faith grinned at him as he left the room then raised her eyes to meet the doctor's. She did not like the decidedly glazed over expression on his face, Faith knew that look, she had seen it on Wesley and Giles and Robin's faces when they found out something new or different about a demon or the supernatural. It was definitely the nerd multiple-orgasm look, which was never targeted at anything normal, like sex. It meant: _interesting new research! I can't wait to blow off my hot date to go and consult some musty books. Ooh maybe I can take some blood and skin samples, study them under my mystical microscope! And bore everybody to tears with words like, "interesting discovery", "peculiarities", "species", "if my research is correct", blablabla. _

"Dr. Jones, huh? Didn't Aqua do a song about you?"

-xxx-

Dean ambled down the hall towards Faith's room and whistled a jaunty tune. He had packed his and Faith's paltry belongings in the 'Batmobile'/ Impala and cheerfully bade the dilapidated, dingy motel goodbye. He was so excited to see the back of the lodgings and also at the prospect of seeing Faith again. Thinking back to the night he had met her, Dean shook his head at the irony of the last thing he had said to her before she passed out.

Faith sat in her bed and tried not to let memories of a hospital bed in another life drown her in despair. A year ago she had been sitting in a hospital bed in Rome, flowers, cards and balloons congratulating her and Robin on the birth of their fraternal twins. She had been so tired, but so happy, the joyousness of the occasion seeping through the holes in her heart and warming her more than anything in her life ever had. Robin had been lying next to her in the bed, making her feel safe and loved and warm. And now? Now, there was only her. Robin had taken the twins and moved to Africa, in order to keep them safe and as far off the demon radar as possible. It had signalled the end of Faith and Robin because her job and the never-ending bounties on her head made her a danger to him and the kids.

Faith could not help the unexpected and all-consuming bitterness that she had felt and still felt. It was as if by having his babies she had finally given him something more important to believe in. Something that left no room for her in his life or his heart. It still hurt to remember the conviction in his eyes and in his voice as he told her that she was a warrior, built to kill and that her lifestyle would always bring danger knocking on their door. An evil cult had tried to steal her babies and sacrifice them to some Big Bad because they were the children of the last original Slayer line. Ever since she had been called she had never understood or appreciated Buffy's desire to lead a normal life. Until the reality of who and what she was had hit her with the force of a ten ton truck. The fact that he was right had not made his words any less painful.

So what had Faith done? She had accepted Robin's decision (a decision that Giles and the Scoobies had supported wholeheartedly) and she had packed a bag and headed back to the States on the first flight out. She had been too late to try and help Angel with his fight against the Circle of the Black Thorn. But not too late to help a furious and betrayed Buffy search for him and his team in the wreckage of LA. Or find Wesley's remains. Faith shuddered from the cold that came from somewhere deep inside.

Oh, Wesley. More than Buffy, Mayor Wilkins, or Joyce, Wesley represented just how sick and twisted the old Faith had become. And whenever she thought of him, or LA, or Watchers, or librarians, or Englishmen, Faith could feel that yawning chasm that was her guilt and self-loathing open up inside her and threaten to swallow her whole. Wesley was gone, he had died and left all the apologies she had needed to make, all the declarations of character and personality growth unspoken, and silent in her sieve of a heart. Unbidden tears of grief and regret welled up in her eyes and Faith wiped them away angrily.

Where the fuck was Dean Winchester? She needed his smoldering animal magnetism and jaunty devil-may-care attitude to distract her. And she needed to get out of here. Now.

Dean stopped by the nurses' station and flirted for a few minutes. It always paid to engage in some PR. You never knew when a friendly stranger could be useful.

"Good evening, Maggie Lynn, Beatrice. You ladies look too good to be hidden away in a hospital, as usual."

"Hi, Jason. You're looking too good to be here, too."

Dean gave them his most charming smile. "Oh, Maggie, haven't you heard the good news? Julia's awake."

"Oh we heard. Bea saw the candy striper bring her dinner."

"Excellent. Let me go in and see her. We can talk about that drink you promised me on my way out."

The nurses giggled and flushed as he treated them each to a melting look before swaggering away.

Faith's room in sight, Dean forgot about the nurses and wondered about the woman/girl enigma. Her attitude earlier had obviously been Faith trying to resume the tattered mantle of control she had lost since she'd nearly died on him, twice. Dean could not help but sympathize; he knew what it felt like to be hurt, confused and alone in a foreign place. Wasn't he always? But Dean also knew there was no way she was leaving the hospital tonight. Criminal past to hide be damned, the chick had nearly died on him! He flashed back to the horrifying news from the emergency team that Faith's blood type was extremely rare and they did not have any in stock. It was with great relief that he had found out that his blood was compatible with hers.

Near death experience aside, there were also the interesting scars she bore. Not on the outside, but on the inside. The scars that shadowed her eyes and made her smile with a calculated brightness that was only skin deep. Squeezing his spicy chicken burrito, Dean pushed open her door, nervously anticipating the unpredictable welcome he was sure to get.

-xx-

When Dean walked in, Faith was watching the door warily; Slayer hearing had detected his footsteps as he approached her room. He smiled at her winningly but before he could speak, Faith vaulted out of her bed and snatched Dean's burrito out of his hand.

Ripping the foil wrapper off the top, she bit into the greasy wrap with an appreciative groan.

"Fuck, this is so good!" she exclaimed over a mouthful of food.

Dean stared at her in shock, wondering at her agility, speed and the fact that she could leap out of bed at all, when she had been badly injured and comatose for the last three days.

Before he could say anything, Faith grabbed her right side and winced, sitting back down on the bed heavily. Dean silenced the voice in his head that was wondering about her suspicious show of strength. He leaned forward and looked into her eyes gently. There was a flash of something dark before she quashed it, silently permitting him to put his arm around her.

"Come on, let's get you back into bed. I don't think you're supposed to be shooting out of bed like that just yet. Fresh stitches are not very user friendly."

Faith nodded her acquiescence and let him guide her back into bed. She fought the traitorous urge to lean into him more than she needed to and be enveloped in his warmth. As Dean pulled the covers up over her lap, she continued scarfing down the burrito just to busy her herself.

Dean sat on the edge of her bed and watched her with amused interest. She pointedly ignored him, practically inhaling the food. Man, she was ravenous. Making short work of the extra-large burrito, Faith scrunched up the empty foil wrapper and handed it to Dean, simultaneously licking her fingers individually. Dean felt his first flare of desire for her light up somewhere in his gut. Either she had really been hungry or she was his kinda girl.

Without warning, Faith reached for the lapels of his leather jacket, dragged him toward her and kissed him hungrily. It took Dean half a second to catch up and kiss her back, opening his mouth slightly as she slipped her spicy flavored tongue in. The kiss was exploratory but so very languid and sensual, Dean felt a frisson of pure lust skate down his spine. Oh yeah, definitely his kinda girl Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her and brought her closer, deepening the embrace. She was a tiny little thing. He held her closely but gently, still very much aware of her injuries.

Faith felt her loins grow heavy as Dean kissed her back like she was a beautiful woman that knew nothing about demons, vampires, beheadings or death. The kind that knew much about love and all that other fluffy stuff normal people cared about. Kissing this man confirmed her suspicions all along: he really was as good as the packaging suggested. She felt so sensual and desire so strong from the mere tussling of their tongues, it was like being drunk.

The only person that had ever kissed her like this was Robin. Oh yeah, Robin. And just like that, she pulled away, the tender flames of desire doused in a bucket of cold, hard reality.

Dean's eyes flew open, his hands resisting the backwards push of Faith's body, until he saw the sharp corners of hurt and confusion poking out her eyes. She closed them for a second then opened them again, the damning emotions gone. She smiled at him wryly.

"I don't know what love is, but I'm pretty sure I love you for bringing me that burrito. I was thinking of strangling the candy striper with my drip tube after the very Oliver Twist gruel she brought me and had the stones to call dinner."

Dean blinked dazedly, his breath coming out in short, sharp bursts. That was one hell of a kiss and she was dismissing it like it hadn't affected her. Faith was also breathing a little erratically so it was coldly comforting to know it was just a distancing act. With shaky resolve, Dean stifled the urge to ask her what the kiss was about. Talking about emotions was for girls, like Sammy. Besides, if she wanted to play the 'nothing can get me down' game, she had no idea who she was dealing with. He was Dean Winchester, a fucking expert at burying feelings. So with his trademark grin in place he shrugged.

"Actually the burrito was my dinner."

Faith's smile grew more confident. Dean's eyes strayed down to her pale lips; they looked fuller now than they had when she was in her coma. And they had more color in them after the kiss they'd just shared. He wondered fleetingly what those lips could do to him, and then shut the door on those dangerous lustful thoughts.

He frowned with concern. "Are you okay? How's your side?"

Faith shrugged a little defensively. "I'm five by five, baby… Now that catheter's out."

She lay back on the bed, pillowing her head with her left arm and grinned nonchalantly for emphasis. Wow, this chick was good.

"So what'd the doc say?"

Faith casually studied her nails and shrugged. "You know, what he's been saying since I woke up. I can't believe how fast you're healing, I've called my med school geek buddies to come poke and prod you tomorrow morning like a lab rat. So I told him: look, doc, maybe you should be checking Dean Winchester's super lifesaving blood 'cause I don't know what else it could be."

She looked at him calculatingly as she said the last bit. To Dean's credit he managed to stifle the urge to react. The doctor wasn't the only one wondering about her 'fast healing rate'. She'd been in a coma this morning then she'd literally leaped out of bed this evening. He was going to have to keep an eye on her.

"Hope you didn't mention my real name when you said that."

"Dude, I know the drill, okay? Which is why I'd love you even _more_ if you could hand over some of my clothes so I can change and we can get the hell out of here."

This time Dean failed to suppress his disbelief. "You've gotta be kidding me. Sweetheart, we- well _you_, can't leave here now. You just woke up from a coma, for fucks sake. _And_ the doc hasn't given you a pink slip yet."

Faith's playful grin disappeared. "_No_, no, _no_. We leave _now_, tonight. If you're too much of a pussy to help me do that, then hand over my shit so I can get the fuck outta here on my own. Sweetheart."

She spat the endearment out like it was a foul word. Dean flinched.

"Alright, easy. I said I'd help you get outta here and I will. Besides, I'm many things but pussy ain't one of them." His tone started out placatory but ended up insulted.

Faith gave him a jaded look. "You don't have to get your panties in a twist, Deanna. Just prove it."

Dean's jaw clenched and he could swear he had just popped a vein. "I'll go get your backpack from my car and you can get changed while I talk to the attending."

Faith watched him stand up then fixed challenging brown eyes on him, "You got 10 minutes to get my shit and another 10 to get me discharged or I'm busting outta here on my own."

Dean made an impatient noise. "Yeah, darling, I got it the first 3 times you said it."

"Don't see why you're still standing here then, Batman."

He gave her the finger and stalked out of the room, managing to stop himself from slamming the door at the very last second. He would not give her the satisfaction. Man, this ungrateful bitch could get under his skin! Would serve her right if she ripped her stitches and/or passed out.

-xxx-

Getting Faith discharged had been relatively easy. Dean had thrown the attending against the wall of Faith's room and applied the right kind of pressure against his throat. It had achieved the desired effect and the discharge papers had been signed. A couple hundred dollar bills to soothe the attending's ego and make sure he didn't rat them out to the cops and Dean had carried Faith out of the hospital and into the Impala. There was a wheelchair but Faith had threatened to walk so Dean had not wanted to risk her tearing her stitches just to prove to him she could.

Faith watched Dean slide her seatbelt across her chest and click it into place. She wasn't much for the damseling but, man, this guy made a girl feel, well, feminine. Dean withdrew his hand from the belt and their eyes met, Faith's glittering darkly in the unlit car. Dean felt his breath seize in his chest and in response he cracked a cavalier smile.

"Yeah, I know. I was pretty hot in there."

Faith's lips stretched into an amused grin. "You know what? You really were."

Without thinking Dean leaned forward and kissed her, thoroughly. Prolonging the kiss until Faith's fingers were gripping his hair and she was moaning softly into his mouth. Then he pulled away, laughing softly as Faith swore vehemently. He always knew how to leave them begging for more.

Shutting her door, he circled round the front of the car and got into the driver's seat. When he sat down and stuck the keys in the ignition, Faith had composed herself again, thinking, payback's a bitch, Deano.

"So where to?"

"Reno."

Dean looked at her incredulously and her lips stretched into that taunting shark-like grin of hers. It was such a grown-up grin for such a young woman; with her faded bruises and makeup free face, it was downright unnerving. Suppressing the urge to argue or voice one of the thousand questions he had, Dean shrugged and put the Impala into reverse.

"Reno it is."

Faith's smile brightened and she leaned forward to push the cassette into the tape deck. Dean tensed at the unlawful touching of his radio. AC/DC filtered out.

"Wicked tunes, man," she breathed appreciatively as she increased the volume.

Any feelings of misgivings Dean felt evaporated into thin air; she was a much better chick than Sammy.

Tires squealing they left the hospital parking lot and Dean steered the car onto the highway. The first marker they came up to read, Reno 180 miles. Faith whooped with joy and grinned at him encouragingly. Dean felt his heart do a weird tumble inside his chest.

"Dude, you got any beer?"

"No but I've got some whiskey in my flask. It's underneath your seat."

Faith leaned down careful not to strain her right side too much and fished it out. With a triumphant twinkle in her eyes she uncapped it and took a huge swig before she offered it to him. Dean took a drink and handed it back to her as she leaned against the open window and stuck out her elbow. She took another healthy swig.

"Well, let's motor, cowboy. There's nothing left in this town for us."

Dean shook his head with amusement and floored the gas. He could not agree more and it was all but confirmed, this was gonna be a crazy ride.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Fic: Gimme Shelter (3/5)**_  
><strong>Title:<strong> Gimme Shelter  
><strong>Author:<strong> Dulcedeusex  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I DO NOT OWN. All recognizable characters and situations belong to their respective owners and I make no profit off this.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Fandom's:<strong> Supernatural/Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Dean Winchester, Faith Lehane

**Type:** GEN, HET, pre-SPN S1

**Pairing(s):** Faith/Dean

**Spoilers:** SPN pre-season 1, BtVS post-Chosen, AtS post-Not Fade Away  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Some months before SPN Season 1, Dean Winchester bumps into Faith in a town in Nevada. He saves her life after she's fought a demon but he does not know she is a Slayer.

**Art:** the lovely **sucksucksmile** without whom this fic would merely be a sepia version of itself.

**Author's Notes:** This story is dedicated to the amazing **dollarformyname**, without her this would never have been published and if it had it would have been so crap! I'm also dedicating it to all the **SPN/BtVS/AtS** crossover writers whose works inspired me to try this in the first place (that includes you Lisa).

_**I tell you love, sister, it's just a kiss away**_

_**It's just a kiss away**_ – Gimme Shelter, Rolling Stones

**Chapter 3**

Dean slowed down the Impala as they drew nearer to the Amtrak Station in Reno, Nevada. Faith had grown quiet as they approached.

The quiet in the car hung over them like funereal pall, and it had done so for the good part of an hour. As soon as they had spied the markers directing them to the train station, Faith's steady stream of banter and dirty inappropriate jokes had died down to a distracted silence.

Dean pulled the parking brake and looked at her expectantly. He did not know what to say, the whole drive over, she had been wide-awake telling him crazy stories about the various places she had been to and the people she had met. All Dean had had to do was interject every once in a while with dirty jokes or suggestive comments.

Then on their last pit stop an hour ago, she'd washed her face, brushed her teeth, lined her eyes with dark kohl and applied a plum red lipstick to those full lips that sent Dean's hormones and imagination on a decidedly lustful rampage. In her war paint he had realised that he had somehow underestimated this chick. She may be young, and small but she was dangerous. Very dangerous in all the ways a beautiful woman with a knack for violence can be.

Faith looked straight out the windshield then turned brown eyes brimming with false bravado on Dean.

"So Batman, this is where I get off."

Dean cracked an equally false smile, "A girl's gotta do what she's gotta do right?"

Faith's eyes flashed with pain before she buried it, "You got that right."

"Any idea where you're going?"

"No, and that's kinda the point. Speaking of points where's my baby at?"

Dean reached into the breast pocket of his leather jacket and dug out the deadly weapon. He saw the way Faith's eyes lit up when he handed it to her, hilt first.

She held the knife reverently in her slender hands then wrapping a fist around its hilt she leaned down and sheathed it in her left boot. Dean inhaled sharply with appreciation.

She sat up and looked back into his eyes.

"Are you gonna hook up with your Dad, now?"

Dean had given her the Cliff Notes version of John Winchester, but she seemed to have been able to fill in the blanks very well. She had not said so in so many words but her eyes told him she understood. _Which was crazy, how could she when Dad was obsessed with hunting demons?_ That sounded totally insane when Dean imagined himself speaking those words to her.

Dean shrugged, a tension settling in his shoulders, "Not just yet, thought I'd see a little more of this part of America first."

Faith nodded in understanding then looked back at the station; she did not want to go, not yet. She could sense Dean's reluctance for her to leave too and it filled all those dark and empty places inside her with something liquid and warm.

What _did_ she have waiting for her out there? Nothing but more emptiness and darkness and monsters that never stopped coming. She felt her breath rattle in her chest with shaky fear. Could she go back out there like she was right now?Weary, weak and so wretchedly lonely she wanted to fall to her knees and scream so loud it would rip the fucking sky a new one?

Would the Cleveland Hellmouth spontaneously combust if she wasn't there to help the dozens of Slayerettes currently manning it?_ After all, they were all just cannon-fodder. Created, no, destined, to feed the yawning maw of Hell that was always open and never satisfied. Maybe that was the whole light vs dark bit about it all? Slayers were fed to Hell and its minions and in exchange worse evil was spawned. Evil nurtured by the very blood of the people designed to stop it._

Faith scowled at herself, her mind was going on a walkabout, and she did not _**do**_ mental wanderings. _Yet another reason to hate comas. _

_So what was the bottom line here? Bottom line was, right now? She did not feel like playing the role destiny had assigned her. Wasn't that the whole point of Willow working her mojo in Sunnydale?_

So that Faith and Buffy didn't _**have**_ to? Besides she was more of a rule breaker than follower right?

_That girl was still in there somewhere wasn't she? _

"You know that hole in your side is not exactly tourist friendly, don't you think you should give yourself some more time to heal?" Dean asked hopefully.

He really did not want her to go. She had woken something inside him, something he had never known existed for anyone other than his family; loyalty, affection, concern, a sense of responsibility that had nothing to do with protecting civilians from the supernatural things in life. Then there was the secondary but equally powerful need to explore that seductive promise of great sex her lips, eyes, body and very voice taunted him with. It was a promise that had been silently communicated to him since they had kissed in her hospital room. Dean also wanted to know more about her knife-habit and fast-healing rate. She had not seemed surprised to hear the Doc at the hospital get carried away about it; in fact she had seemed wary and ready to do physical harm. But she wasn't a hunter, Dean had checked with Dad's friend Bobby via email.

_Yeah there was something about her that made him wonder. And he wanted to know what it was all about. Damn. She had tied him up in all kinds of knots. How had she done that when she had spent the majority of their four day acquaintance comatose?_

Faith's hand drifted up to her healing ribs, the bones had already knitted together, and she could feel the itch of a healed break that she could not scratch. A normal girl wouldn't have healed broken bones in four days. It would take something more like four weeks.

_And as far as Dean Winchester knew, she was a normal girl… with a penchant for knives and violence. Like Angelina Jolie._ She laughed to herself, _yeah, she was Angelina Jolie. And he was Brad Pitt. Hot and pretty fucking talented._ Without thinking about it any further she decided to take the leap.

"You know what Pretty Boy?"

Dean looked at her expectantly, unable to formulate words. _Any second now she was gonna put his loneliness back on the gas burner._ And it was going to scorch his insides worse than before, because now, he knew she was there, and her presence seemed to heal him on the inside somehow. _Whoa, easy there Winchester, you still got a pair of 'nads down there?_

"I _should_ give my body some more time to heal. I mean let's face it, this is a great body and it would be a shame to short-change it out of some much needed RnR."

Dean held his breath, viciously telling his suddenly racing heart not to get too excited.

"So there's this nice, classy motel I checked out when I first passed through Reno. Besides, you've been driving all night-"

Dean instantly put the car into gear and started to drive away from the station, "I _am_ pretty tired. I don't get to look this good from not sleeping."

The station was now behind them and Faith's face lit up as she took her cue from him and leaned forward to turn up the 'Black Sabbath' that had been playing earlier.

"Oh I know, you're starting to look a little used up there. Real ragged around the edges, kiddo."

Dean was so relieved that she had changed her mind and was still a little anxious that she could still change it again; he did not rise to the bait. Choosing instead to look at her with dancing eyes, he mock scowled at her. She let out a brief dry chuckle and indicated with her right hand that he should keep going straight.

-xx-

Faith had not lied; the self-catering motel she took him to _was _classy. Well as classy as a motel _could_ be. Modeled like an apartment complex, "The Oasis" was sandy white and well maintained. The structure encircled a pool and in the back there was a relatively secure parking lot. After Dean went to pay for a room, he came back to meet Faith at the Impala.

_She was leaning against it and __**smoking**__ a cigarette!_ In her dark jeans, black faded Elvis t-shirt, black boots and black leather jacket, she looked hot and mysterious. _But she was leaning on his baby with a cancer stick! This chick had a double death wish. _

Spotting Dean, Faith grinned at him and took one last long drag of her cigarette before tossing it over her shoulder. Nearly giving Dean an aneurysim as he worried it was going to land on his car. It didn't.

Faith chuckled and took a limping step toward him. Dean quickly closed the gap between them not wanting her to strain herself too much and also surreptitiously studying his baby for any damage.

"Well?"

"Gotta pay for a week at a time, so you're covered for two. Here let me help you." Dean said as he bent his knees and scooped her up in his arms.

Faith bit back a squeal of surprise. _What the fuck?_ She was a Slayer, she did not do squealing. Dean's green eyes twinkled with amusement at her discomfort and she felt her knees go a little weak. Slayer or not this guy made it easy to forget she could crush him like a bug. Or that she was an escaped convict that had killed people and sold her soul to the Devil not too long ago.

Stopping at their room, number 6, Dean unlocked the door, and pushed it back with a wriggling Faith who was trying to get down.

"Unh huh, huh! You need to be resting not tiring yourself out with smokes and walking more than you should." Dean admonished gently as he carried her into the room.

"I can take care of myself, Deano."

"Not saying you can't Faithie but it's getting late and… I think I should at least stay the night."

Something flickered hopefully inside her chest, so naturally Faith shrugged with feigned indifference, busying herself with admiring the room.

It had a butter yellow kitchenette, a little living space with an armchair, coffee table and tv set. The open door to the left lead to a blue and white tiled bathroom complete with a bathtub, a toilet and a large sink, and the double bed near the back of the room looked incredibly inviting.

Finally meeting Dean's eyes again she cocked her head a little, he was looking at her with barely restrained anticipation and she shrugged again.

"Dude if you're into crippled chicks you should just say so instead of pretending to be some kinda nice guy, hero type. I knew there had to be something wrong with you."

In Faith language she was saying she agreed that he should stay the night. Dean pretended to drop her and this time Faith did squeal. Clinging to him instinctively until he hefted her back up and grinned.

"I've got you Faith."

Something light and hopeful jumped in her chest, "I'm much more reliable, well actually I'm not. Okay, I'm much more _touchable_ than the other kind of faith."

Dean's eyes twinkled with amusement, "And definitely more trouble."

Faith raised her eyebrows at that then running her hand down the lapels of his jacket she lowered her voice to a soft purr, "_Definitely_. Now…I haven't yet learned how to eat myself so I think you should put me down and go get us something to eat."

Dean shook his head, _where the Hell did they make chicks like her?_ He shrugged with her still firmly ensconced in his arms and grinned.

"Eat yourself huh? That mean, what I think it means?"

Faith rolled her eyes at the hopeful tone in his voice but could not help the smile on her face as Dean whirled them around then set her down on one of the two wooden stools in the kitchenette.

"Go get dinner and I'll tell you all about it you perv."

Dean waggled his eyebrows boyishly and with a mock salute, strode towards the door.

"Hold that thought, I'll be back sooner than you can say, this one time at Girl Scouts."

Faith chuckled drily as the setting rays of the sun limned him in glowing orange yellow before he shut the door. She wasn't big on the poetry but this guy was beginning to feel like he was heaven sent, just for her.

-xx-

Dean had come back with an armload of groceries and takeout from an _actual_ restaurant. It was a steakhouse grill but it was still real food. Faith had treated him to his first look at the Slayer appetite as she demolished her meal. He had jokingly implored her not to go throw it up in the bathroom later cause it was damn good food and she'd given him the finger. Only when she started in on his own food, did Dean manage to get over his shock and eat faster.

Dean had run her a bath and ordered her to take it while he cleaned up. When she was done, he had gone in to take a shower, giving her ample time to change into sleepwear. His look of surprise when he'd come out of the bathroom to find her in boy-shorts and one of _his_ clean plaid shirts had made her laugh. Playfully calling him a prude since he had come out in drawstring pants and an overwashed t-shirt.

He had helped Faith into the giant bed before taking a pillow and settling into the solitary armchair in the room. Remembering that she was supposed to have taken a horse tranquiliser of a pain killer, and that she was supposed to be a normal girl, Faith had pretended to fall asleep. Her left hand surreptitiously wrapped around "Betsy" the trusty knife Mayor Wilkins had given her, hidden under the pillow. She lay there and watched Dean's profile which showed him fall asleep before her in the undoubtedly uncomfortable armchair.

Faith wondered about the man that obviously had his fair share of secrets, pain and loneliness. He had done so much for her, more than anyone had ever done for her in the past and he did not even know her. She could not help but be a little awed and intimidated by his selflessness. It had been wishful thinking earlier but maybe he really had been heaven sent. Faith smiled to herself at the thought, her lids drifting down sleepily. And if not she had "Betsy" here to deal with anything the guys in the basement might have planned.

Dean woke up from the uncomfortable chair with start, his right hand instantly reaching under the cushion for his favorite pistol. Looking around the moonlit room with confusion he wondered what had woken him then he remembered, Faith! Craning his neck backwards he watched her struggle against an unseen enemy in her sleep. Standing up groggily he padded towards the bed.

Under the direct light from the full moon outside, Dean squinted and drew closer.

_What was that on her neck?_

He leaned over the bed to study the silvery bite-mark that formed a jagged complete circle.

_Those were not human teeth or his name wasn't Dean Winchester. This chick had been bitten by a vampire! Now that was crazy, vampires weren't real. He leaned back and sat on the bed, staring at her dazedly. She couldn't be a hunter could she? And if she wasn't a hunter and she wasn't a demon then who the Hell was she? _

Dean had studied the soles of her steel-toed boots, they matched the size and pattern of the prints he'd found by the gravel pit. The blood sample he'd taken had been spoiled before he could look at it but now he wondered again if it was possible that she could have gotten hurt fighting that child-eating demon back in Bello?

"Dawn… she's coming Buffy, gotta get ready for her. Miles to go before you sleep." Faith mumbled.

Dean shook his head with a sheepish expression on his face, of course she wasn't a hunter.

_What kind of hunter knew people called Buffy and Dawn? Maybe she'd been attacked by a vampire-like creature and probably didn't know what it was when she pulled her knife on it and stabbed it. Or a hunter had rescued her. Or both. As for the boot prints out by the gravel pit, could have been anybody._

His research on the internet had also shown him that steel-toed Doc Martens were still very popular.

"Castiel, its Uriel! No! Anna please…You've gotta help him. _Get down_! Everybody _get down_!" Faith screamed then wrenched awake.

Dean reflexively put his hands on her shoulders, she tensed, muscles ready to attack before she recognised him and relaxed while Dean made soothing sounds.

"It's okay, it was just a bad dream."

Faith was breathing heavily, unshed tears sparkling in her eyes. Scared and vulnerable, she leaned into Dean's embrace and swallowed convulsively.

Yeah it was just a bad dream, definitely not some kind of weird Slayer dream. She didn't know an insurance man called Cas, or a big black bald Hitman called Uriel that exuded power that was definitely more than human. And as common as the name was, she did not know any Anna's either. Faith's chest heaved from the remembered adrenaline of the dream.

_Then there was the explosion, she hadn't really gotten a bunch of girls killed in a mineshaft of a town that no longer existed. Right? Her breath seized in her chest. Wrong. That __**had**__ actually happened._

Her hand crept up to curl around Dean's right arm and she pressed her face into his shoulder, still shaking. He leaned forward and held her closer, stroking her thick lustrous hair down her back in a comforting caress. Once again he wondered about this enigmatic girl/woman, his instincts told him she had enough tears to fill an ocean if she was so inclined. He also wondered about the bite on her neck, he could see it even better now and it was pretty fucking deep. Whatever had bit her had not meant for her to live. Dean smiled to himself a little, he hadn't known her long but he already knew she was just contrary enough to not have cared about that.

They stayed in their awkward half embrace for so long, Dean's leg started to fall asleep. Faith pulled away from him and looked into his eyes, searching the hazel green depths for something. Whatever she found must have satisfied her because she pulled the covers back and looked at him with a silent invitation. Dean's heart jumped then slammed in his ribs and he felt his throat go dry, she wanted him to get in bed with her so he could just what?

_Hold her?_ _Whoa, now this was asking a lot._

"Contrary to your beliefs, I'm really _not_ into crippled chicks." Dean quipped lamely.

Faith smirked, "Who said anything about you _getting in_? Just get in the bed you loser."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Okay but if I wake up with some morning wood it's nothing personal." Dean joked, still hesitating to get under the covers with her.

That predatory grin of hers flashed, "I'll take it personal if you _don't_, now get in here Winchester. You paid for the digs, and the bed, the least you can do is get some decent shuteye."

Guys had gotten more out of Faith for less reasons and the fact that he hadn't asked or demanded it meant a lot. The words were unspoken but Dean heard them just as clearly as if she had said them out loud.

Something inside him loosed at her invitation, it took the pressure off and yet at the same time it made him feel good. It was a legitimate out from scary thoughts of domesticity he had never had, and adequate cover for him to shove that loneliness that was squatting in his soul, out for a night. He crawled under the covers, pointedly ignoring her dancing brown eyes.

He was still a man after all and there was something intoxicating about a young, supple bodied hot chick needing him. Especially when the girl in question, was obviously not used to needing anyone, and just too damned independent/stubborn for her own good. Lying on his back, Dean glanced over at Faith as she snuggled into her pillow then drew closer to him. With a knowing grin she winked.

"Turn onto your side and drape your arm on my hip Winchester."

He rolled over onto his side and did as he was told, pulling her closer, they faced each other for a split-second, accelerated breaths mingling briefly before she rolled over so her backside brushed against his groin. She felt all womanly and soft, and she seemed to fit against him just right. He wondered if everything else would fit so snugly and almost instantaneously his blood rushed down to his groin. He grinned against her hair when she drew in a breath.

"Serves you right Sweetheart."

"Shut up Dean." Faith said without rancor.

Dean extended his left arm so that it pillowed her head and drew her closer, luxuriating in the clean shampoo smell of her silky thick hair.

"Yes ma'am." Dean said under his breath and he felt her cheek slide against his left arm in a small smile.

"Sweet dreams Deano."

"Oh _that_ I'm not worried about." Dean said with lewd chuckle as his erection grew fuller against her butt.

Faith pushed her free arm up and rooted underneath her vacated and now useless pillow. She pulled out a scary looking blade that made Dean jerk backwards in shock.

"Don't worry, if you get too carried away in your sleep, Betsy here'll keep you in line."

"Jesus Christ woman! Where did you get that?"

"She was in my stuff; I keep Betsy very well hidden. Don't get your period or anything; I would have been shocked if you had found her. So it's not a diss to your criminal skills."

Dean remained tense for a few minutes, _that_ was a fucking huge and deadly knife.

_How could he have missed it? My God, what would Dad say to that? Well Dad wasn't here, and Dean was a grown man. _

He slammed the door on all thoughts John related and felt himself instantly relax, then inch closer to her again cautiously.

Dean muttered several expletives under his breath as Faith tucked "Betsy" under her pillow again, giving the cushion an affectionate pat. Faith laughed out-loud.

_Seriously, what kind of a woman named her knife?_

Soon the tension left his body; soothed away by the welcome and relaxed, gentle pressure of Faith's body against his. She reached back and brought his arm around her waist, tucking his hand in hers she held it close to her chest and sighed. Despite his attempts not to, Dean felt himself savor the contact and the way it somehow soothed something deep inside him.

Thinking about the knife-naming, Dean realised that was exactly what he did with _his_ favorite weapons. She was definitely his kind of a woman, and he'd never met one like her before.

_As for intimate human contact just for the sake of comfort? Wasn't so bad or so scary after all. It was kinda nice, no, it was very fucking nice. _

And Dean had never had that before either. He listened to Faith's even breathing and observed that she had probably had it once, maybe twice before. She slept with the ease of someone who had. So then maybe in that regard he was more fucked up than she was and she could teach him a thing or two. He thought back to "Betsy" and decided she could probably teach him a couple hundred things. And he liked that. She was also holding onto his hand very tightly, Dean liked that too.

For the first time since Sam had run off to college, Dean fully relaxed as sleep claimed him.

An aching void he had noticed was there but never dared plumb its full depths, was rapidly filling up with doe eyes that could darken from whiskey brown to black coffee. For all their power to threaten and scare, they did not alarm him. Dean wondered how the mere presence of this slight woman, with her steamer trunk of issues was making him not feel so alone anymore.

Then he stopped wondering altogether as he fell into a deep and tranquil sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Fic: Gimme Shelter (4/5)**_  
><strong>Title:<strong> Gimme Shelter  
><strong>Author:<strong> Dulcedeusex  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I DO NOT OWN. All recognizable characters and situations belong to their respective owners and I make no profit off this.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Fandom's:<strong> Supernatural/Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Dean Winchester, Faith Lehane, Buffy, Dawn (mention), Willow (mention), John Winchester, Bobby Singer (mention), Sam Winchester (mention)

**Type:** GEN, HET, pre-SPN S1

**Pairing(s):** Faith/Dean

**Spoilers:** SPN pre-season 1, BtVS post-Chosen, AtS post-Not Fade Away  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Some months before SPN Season 1, Dean Winchester bumps into Faith in a town in Nevada. He saves her life after she's fought a demon but he does not know she is a Slayer.

**Art:** **sucksucksmile** you graphics goddess you!

**Author's Notes:** This story is dedicated to the amazing **dollarformyname**, without her this would never have been published and if it had it would have been so crap! I'm also dedicating it to all the **SPN/BtVS/AtS** crossover writers whose works inspired me to try this in the first place.

_**Ooh, see the fire is sweepin'**_

_**Our very street today**_

_**Burns like a red coal carpet**_

_**Mad bull lost its way**_ – Gimme Shelter, Rolling Stones

**GIMME SHELTER – Chapter 4**

Faith inhaled a lungful of cigarette smoke and watched it stream out into the crisp, Nevada night air. It was well past midnight and her repressed Slayer instincts were screaming for her to go out there and fight the evil uglies that came out after dark. Looking over her shoulder she watched the reassuring, rhythmic rise and fall of Dean's chest as he slept. Instantaneously, something inside her softened.

For the thousandth time she wondered what would happen if she told him the truth about who and what she was. The familiar stirrings of guilt unfurled inside her at the lie by omission she had been perpetuating for the last 6 weeks. Fuck, had it already been 6 weeks since she had met him? Most of the time it felt like a few days, then sometimes, at night as the terrors of the underworld called out to her, it felt like much longer.

She had not meant to lie to him or hide the fact that she was a Slayer from him, but he had been so good to her without asking for anything in return, that she could not bear the thought of him calling her crazy and bailing or him just, well, fucking bailing after seeing her in action, after seeing the things that a girl her size or human should not be able to do, coming to her as easy as breathing. That would freak out even the most understanding of people.

Faith knew he was that he hunted demons and carried out exorcisms. She had picked the lock to his trunk and seen what he hid there. She had followed him on a couple of hunts when she should have been in bed 'recuperating'. She knew that he wasn't a normal guy but he was no Slayer, or son of a Slayer, or vampire with a soul. And let's face it, the things he faced? Were poor imitations of the demons and monsters she had fought. And maybe he would never know what the frontlines of saving the world were like, but Faith knew, she knew all too well. She was a soldier who had lost loved ones in the frontlines and she would not wish that fate on anyone, especially Dean.

Her cigarette glowed in the velvety dark as she sucked in one last drag, absently burning her lips a little. Flicking the butt out into the night she watched the red ember fall down into the darkness in a perfect arc. Silently she revelled in the tiny display of superior strength, aim, equilibrium that was a Slayer.

Dean made a sound in his sleep and she glanced back over her shoulder, worried he had woken to catch her smoking. She knew how much he censured the habit when she was supposed to be convalescing. Faith felt her lips stretch in a bitter grin. From that very first, near-fatal night they had met, Dean brought out the woman in her. Made her feel cared for, cherished. Made her want to be better, to fit into that category of people that was considerate of the other person, that category of people that compromised. Unwittingly, she remembered Robin Wood. He too had made her feel like that. Then he had ripped that sense of belonging, sense of security, sense of loving and being loved in return away from her.

Her grin turned into a grimace. Whatever her motivations, whatever the circumstances, she had fundamentally lied to Dean. It was like in those movies where the character kept things hidden out of necessity, out of love and when the other character found out, the damage had already been done and the circle of trust irrevocably broken. Oh fuck yeah, Faith knew all about broken. She had been broken her whole life, except for when she'd been with Robin and now, with Dean. He had healed her, physically and emotionally, and somehow she had healed him too. Cured the loneliness and sense of abandonment his father and younger brother had created. She knew this from the things he had not said about them. She knew this because they were a lot alike.

But sooner or later her Slayer Destiny was gonna catch up with her, she knew that too. But until then? Faith was gonna take all she could get and she was gonna give back as good as she got.

Jumping off the window ledge back into the room she shut the window and padded over to the bed on her bare feet.

Dean's eyes opened instantly, shifting from asleep to awake. Faith beamed at him. Oh, yeah, that was her boy. He may be a mere human but he was a good hunter; it would not be easy for the bad guys to take him down. It made her feel oddly proud.

Dean pulled back the covers so she could get into bed. Faith pulled his plaid shirt off and crawled into bed just as naked as he was.

"If you're gonna try and get away with smoking, maybe you should do it in the bathroom and brush your teeth after," Dean said in a welcoming sleep-roughened voice.

Faith felt a surge of lust and affection rush through her.

"Oh baby, where's the fun in that? 'Sides, I know how much you like it when I'm bad."

Dean laughed against her neck as he trailed wet, sensuous kisses down her throat. One hand slid down her naked back and spanked her smartly.

Faith chuckled at the action and moved so she was straddling him.

"Kinks on tonight, huh?"

Dean's hands cupped her butt-cheeks reverently, as he looked into her eyes. "Whatever you want, baby."

Faith's heart skipped a beat and she leaned forward to cup his face in her hands, the urge to say those three little words almost overpowering.

Lifting her hips up she brought them down gently, as she felt Dean slide inside her. She let a low hiss of appreciation at the way he fit inside her. Shit, she craved this contact even when she had it. He made her feel complete, made her wish she could crawl inside him and they could be one person forever.

She leaned down and stifled the three words that would get her into more trouble than she was already in by kissing him thoroughly. Her hips rocked and rolled at an insanely slow but erotic pace in sync with her tongue.

Faith drew back, expressive, brown eyes meeting expressive, green ones.

"I want you."

Three words she could say.

Dean smiled at that, stroking his hands down her flanks to rest on her hips and urge her faster. Faith returned the smile and arched her back, shaking her hair like a lioness and obliging him.

-xxx-

"Faith, it's Buffy. We seriously need to work on your communication skills…I would've thought you were not of the living if Willow hadn't done one of her locators on you! Then got one of her computer whiz kid thingies to get your _new_ number! What is the point of living in the 21st century if you can't, like, pick up a phone or type out an email or a text message to let your sister Slayer know how and where you are? You and Angel are both so technologically challenged. Except Angel _has_ an excuse, having been born before the Potato Famine or whatever."

Faith smiled to herself as she tuned out Buffy's ramblings. Didn't seem like Apocalypse stuff and it was fair to assume everybody was five by five. She had seen her phone ring and the British country code on her call display and decided not to pick up. It was too soon to let the real world come crashing on her normal girl bliss. Freaky Slayer dream after all the freaky deaky sex she had had with Dean, and all. Fuck, now she was thought-rambling, one very long voicemail from Buffy and she was falling into big sister's speech patterns. When did that start happening?

"Anyhoodle, I had a pretty intense and fucked up vision last night, like beyond the usual fucked up Slayer dream stuff… and I know you had it too because we did guest spots in each other's dreams. And none of the other Slayer's had it, which is kinda weird. Maybe it's a Chosen Two gig? It's looking pretty Big Baddish as usual and Giles says we need to Mulder and Scully this like yesterday. Which is today your time. What are you doing in Reno anyway? It's not Vegas or the new Vegas, it's Really Crap Country Music Inspiration City. You don't like country, do you? Weird how I don't know if you like country music or not, although I can't imagine it was a big hit in Boston when you were growing up. Hey, watch it, Dawn! That's my new favourite German broadsword! Gimme that! Great you got coffee stains on the leather hilt. What? Oh my God, yeah I'm still talking to Faith's _voicemail_. Speaking of which… call me back… not you, dummy. Faith. Call me back and get on a plane to London or vice versa. And Dawn says hi. Buh-ye!"

Faith set her cell on the kitchen counter very carefully and glanced at the last tendrils of steam from her shower as they evaporated out of the open bathroom window. She was glad to hear from B and she kinda felt nostalgic for the constant combination of chaos that was anything Scooby. Even if she wasn't really a Scoob… neither was she not.

_Whoa, girl, that didn't make any fucking sense! _

Her right hand curled into a tight fist with anxiety. Yep. Time's up, Faithie. You had to jinx it with deep thoughts last night and now? Wish fucking granted.

She glanced at the sex-rumpled sheets she hadn't gotten around to laundering and felt tears well up. Rolling her eyes she fumbled under the newspaper for her smokes. Tears were so pre-Stockton! Yeah, time to sack up. The normal girl routine was so fucking over. Lighting the cigarette she tried not to think about what Buffy's call meant for her and Dean. She had always known they were on borrowed time. Besides, saving the world was much more important than a hot, green-eyed, bow-legged boy with an Impala full of issues that rang her bell like no other. Right? She let out a strangled growl. Fuck Destiny. Fuck TPTB. Fuck Slayer dreams that she had been mainlining since Sunnydale went bang. They all sucked.

She stubbed the cigarette out without finishing it and stood up on autopilot. Striding to the bed she bent down and pulled her duffel bag from underneath it and started packing. When she was done, she took the basket full of laundry and walked out of the room to the laundromat across the street, absently watching the clothes as they swirled around in the washer.

When she got back, she set Dean's clean clothes on the coffee table and started to make Dean's favourite sandwich for lunch. According to the time on her cell, he would be back from the garage he worked at within an hour. Despite everything, she genuinely smiled for the first time since Buffy's voicemail. Dean looked so fucking hot in his auto-shop overalls, face and fingers covered in grease while his green eyes twinkled with the promise of dirty, very wrong grease-monkey sex if she was game. Which, let's face it, she always was.

She stopped in the middle of cutting the crusts off the bread as she thought about just skipping out on him. Faith's adrenaline started pumping as she entertained the idea, then quashed it just as fast as a million images of Dean and her flashed through her mind.

No fucking way did he deserve that. She was a Slayer, he was a demon hunter, they should have been a match made in Heaven, but they weren't. 'Cause she was Faith, the Dark Slayer who was too yellow-bellied to have told him the truth and was considering skipping out on him with no explanation. She exhaled harshly. Guess Wood had rubbed off on her more than she'd thought. She was gonna wait for him. She could tell him the whole unadulterated truth. Watch the affection or love or whatever the fuck it was Dean had for her die in those gorgeous, green eyes that had never shown her less than kindness. Even if he had kept the demon hunting aspect of his life from her.

Dropping the knife she ran her shaking hands down her face. Faith knew herself well enough to know she was having second thoughts about leaving him. Which was crazy and selfish and not a choice she would ever get to make. But Dean was one of the good guys, he hunted demons without a special destiny to do it, just because he knew or, well, had some idea of what was out there and wanted to do his part to keep people safe. He did that and still managed to be the best man she'd ever known… well, except for Giles, but she had never gotten pelvic with Giles so she couldn't—

Shit, she was thought rambling again! She looked down at Dean's steak sandwich and felt something molten hot and hard burn in the place where her heart used to be, tears springing unbidden as she remembered the day he taught her how to make this sandwich. His dead Mom's special sandwich that she'd screwed up the first time.

_**Four weeks ago**_

The TV set was blaring football very loudly as Dean got up from the armchair, empty beer bottle in hand and wandered into the kitchen space where Faith was meticulously making a sandwich. Dressed in cut-off jean shorts, a ribbed black tank, and bare-foot with her dark tresses flowing down her back, Dean thought she looked good enough to eat herself.

"Wait! It's supposed to be a surprise," she protested as Dean leaned his elbows on the counter-top.

Horizontally cutting the sandwich in half, she looked up at him and narrowing her eyes pushed the plate at him with a defensive shrug.

Dean, eye still purple and bruised from the bar-fight he'd gotten in last night grinned at her jauntily, picking up one half of the sandwich and taking a huge bite.

Faith watched him chew eagerly, she knew it was his favourite; and that it had some kind of emotional significance so she had to get it right.

Last night he had gotten into a brawl at the shady bar Faith had insisted they visit. Unbeknownst to Dean she had used him as a decoy, instigating a violent misunderstanding then sneaking out into the back alley to take down a "Big Daddy" Vamp. When she had slipped back into the bar, taking a pool cue to one of Dean's attackers, the look of gratitude he'd given her had made her feel very warm inside but also very guilty.

Today he was in a grey t-shirt, his trademark blue jeans and Homer Simpson socks, relaxing in front of the TV during his lunch break from the garage he worked at. It was so fucking Blue-collar normal yet wonderful and romantic it broke her heart every time she thought about it. She snapped out of her reverie when she felt the strain in her cheek muscles, she was grinning like an idiot for no good reason again.

Refocusing her attention on Dean she noticed that he'd gotten up and retrieved another bottle of beer which was almost finished.

_What the fuck?_

"What's wrong with it?"

Dean gave her a cocky grin, "Nothing, it's perfect."

She leaned forward and noticed that his eyes were tearing a little. Sniffing the air suspiciously she frowned at the pungent smell of mustard. Dragging his plate closer she took a bite of the sandwich while Dean watched her warily.

Faith chewed once and then choked. Way too much Tabasco and horseradish! Tossing the sandwich down she grabbed Dean's beer and chugged the rest. Setting the bottle down on the counter-top with a thud, she looked at Dean with accusatory guilt. He chuckled good-naturedly.

"It gets better after the first couple bites."

Faith tried to think of a non-vampire, bite-related retort and failed.

"Shit is fucking toxic."

"It's not so bad." Dean shrugged, getting up and circling the counter to put an affectionate arm around her before crouching down to open the mini-fridge.

Faith's chest heaved with suppressed aggravation; this was not how she had imagined it. He was supposed to love it _and_ it was supposed to taste good. She turned around just in time to see him assemble the ingredients of the sandwich she had tried to make and failed. His cheeks dimpled with ill-concealed amusement. She knew it was childish but she really wanted to punch him.

"C'mere. See the trick, is subtlety so that the flavours blend together and create a symphony of Mozart proportions in your mouth." Dean explained.

She bit back a sarcastic comment about him knowing shit about classical music, choosing to fold her arms across her chest tensely.

Faith watched Dean as he laid out all the ingredients in some sort of order then took out two slices of bread and began to generously spread butter on them. He gestured for Faith to do the same; as she followed suit, he picked up the remote and pressed mute, then he turned on the tiny stereo on the windowsill. Smokey Robinson & the Miracles filtered out of the Oldies station. Standing next to Faith again he grinned at her encouragingly, his eyes and his smile completely genuine.

"Okay now you take your beef and place it so that it doesn't hang out of the edges when you cut off the crusts. But you still want it to hang out a little as soon as you start eating it."

Faith looked up at him and he winked, "Trick is to make it like you're gonna _have_ the crusts and then cut them off at the very end cause it also holds your sandwich together better."

She hadn't even cut the crusts off, how'd she miss that! It took all Faith had in her not to throw some kind of girly-tantrum.

He started to expertly drizzle Tabasco on the beef and Faith followed suit. Then he picked up the mustard which he squeezed onto his butter knife then spread very thinly on the beef. Faith made a silent 'Oh' and his cheeks dimpled in response. When he opened the jar of pickles, selected two and started to slice them thinly Faith did the same. As they sliced pickles, Dean sang along to 'Tears of a Clown' gently nudging her with his hip as he swayed along with the music. Despite herself, Faith laughed out loud, shaking her head as Dean made funny faces that went along with the lyrics.

When they were done making their sandwiches, Dean took a clean knife and cut them in half diagonally, waggling his eyebrows at Faith as she watched him. This elicited a snort of laughter from her.

"You're such a kid."

"All men are baby. Now try mine and I'll try yours." Dean said as he exchanged their plates.

Faith picked up his sandwich and took a bite. Her eyes closed in appreciation, it tasted exquisite. Just like it was supposed to when she had tried to make it the first time around.

Dean's eyes twinkled as he watched her eat, taking a bite of hers and groaning with approval. Faith beamed.

"Just the way Mom used to make it."

She froze. Mom? She'd screwed up his dead _Mother_'s sandwich?

Dean, cheeks full of food and chewing contentedly, saw the shadow cross over her features. He swallowed carefully and looked at her questioningly.

"Faith?"

"Oh man I screwed up your Mom's sandwich, I feel like such a tit."

Dean frowned, "Don't. It's not a big deal, if it was then Sammy trivialised it a long time ago. Can you believe that kid said it was like a burger without the good stuff, meaning no onions and the toasted bun?"

She wanted to self-flagellate some more but 'onions and toasted bun'? Was that kid crazy?

"Are you shitting me? Onions and toasted bun? Why not just get a Big Mac?"

Dean took another bite of his sandwich as he nodded in agreement, "Exactly what I said… after I punched him. Kid still didn't take a hint."

Faith shook her head in commiseration and Dean reached out to squeeze her hand. She felt her body flood with warmth and Dean grinned.

"So how'd you know I'd like it?"

"Easy, you rock at everything, like me. So why the fuck wouldn't you like my Mom's sandwich?"

Faith positively glowed.

Dean swallowed the last of his sandwich and pulled her onto his lap. Reaching behind her on the counter top he took a healthy swig of his new beer then set it down. Faith put her arms around his neck and wondered at this new and alien feeling she felt whenever she was around Dean. Like she was in some special spotlight that made you tingle all over and compelled you to smile like a love struck teen.

"I don't like your Mom's sandwich, I love it."

Dean's eyes widened with pleasure at her words then he leaned in to kiss her. When they pulled away for air, Dean tucked a stray strand of Faith's hair behind her ear. Kissing her again softly he gently pushed her off his lap with a groan.

"I gotta get back to work."

Faith bit back a laugh as she saw the bulge in his jeans. Dean mock growled at her, shifting his waistband lewdly. Faith's eyebrows went up, silently reminding him that she was no shrinking violet.

"D-Day's comin'. You can't hold out much longer." Dean said in a lust-filled whisper.

She grinned, "I know."

Dean let out an appreciative sigh as he stepped into his boots by the front door.

Crouching down to tie his laces he looked up at her with a wicked gleam in his eyes, "Put on something pretty tonight, we're gonna hustle us some trouble at Viva Casino."

"Sure thing Papi." Faith said in a very good Latina accent.

Dean felt his balls twitch in response, grinning widely he stood up and opened the door; tossing one last wink over his shoulder before he was gone.

Faith looked down at his empty plate and sat down again, shaking her head with a naughty smile as she thought of the way he had adjusted his trousers before he left. They hadn't had sex yet; she was a normal girl with 26 stitches and three broken ribs, after all. But man did she just wanna rip his clothes off and ride him 'til morning. And after today, she knew she wasn't going to be able to hold herself back much longer.

Pulling her own plate towards her and picking up her half eaten sandwich, Faith sighed. His dead mother's sandwich and he found her worthy enough to teach her how to make it. _And_ he had never told his little brother it was their mother's, but he'd told her. Her heart expanded like it was going to burst. Damn. She was already in-lust and in serious girly feelings territory for this guy and they hadn't even had sex yet.

She laughed at herself deprecatingly, half-chewed food in her mouth, "Oh fuck. I'm super fucked."

-xxx-

_**Present Day**_

Dean left the internet café, with a heavy heart. John Winchester had sent him an email about a job that might be connected to whatever had killed Mary Winchester and he wanted Dean to meet him in New Orleans. He sighed heavily as he thought about Faith waiting for him to get back from the auto-shop. Honeymoon was definitely over.

Now the time to tell her about what he really did was here and he was scared she might reject him, like Cassie had done. Cassie. _Oh, yeah, Dean, not a good episode in your life to think about when you're considering letting someone else in. _

But Faith was different from Cassie. She did not have a family and a legitimate career as a journalist to consider. And whether or not she wanted to hear it, she had most definitely been bitten by a vampire in the past.

He remembered her explaining the bite as the day she had learned to never shoot up drugs again. She had been half-flippant, half-introspective, then she'd brushed it off before Dean could probe any further. He had let it go because he was so used to people coming against the supernatural and discounting it to an overactive imagination. If she'd been high when it happened it made sense why she wasn't dead; maybe the drug had disagreed with the vamp-like thing that bit her. Dean unlocked the Impala and stuck the keys in the ignition. His heart was doing weird palpitations out of nervous anxiety. He took a couple deep breaths before starting the car.

As he reversed the car he tried to convince himself this time wouldn't be like Cassie. For one, he had already told Faith he was a hunter. She had assumed he meant bounty hunter and he had not corrected her. After all, he was kind of a bounty hunter but of demons, not people. Then she'd told him she bounty hunted too every once in a while but it was hard work. It had certainly explained the way she could go from relaxed to alert in a public place within a split second. And the way she always seemed aware of possible exits and law enforcement types.

He approached their motel and smiled to himself as he remembered the day, four weeks ago when they had landed their asses in jail and John had shown up to bail them out because the arresting officer was a friend of Bobby Singer's.

-xxx-

**Four Weeks Ago**

Dean fingered his newly blooming black eye absently as he stared up at the cracked ceiling with morbid fascination. How the hell was he going to get them out of this?

"Hey, kiddo, your cell any warmer than mine? Fucking desert; it's freezing at night."

Dean got up from the musty cot and sat down by the rusty steel bars. He pressed his face against the bars so he could get a better look at Faith in the cell across from him.

"Nope, it's pretty cold in here, too. Though I gotta say I'm probably warmer than you in your skimpy-ass silk dress."

Faith rested her forehead against the bars. Hands wrapped tightly around her middle she grinned at Dean conspiratorially. "Yeah, but think about all the money this dress made us."

Dean chuckled. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't the dress, sweetheart. And as for the money: too bad Deputy Stick Up His Ass took it."

Faith flashed him mischievous grin. "Not all of it."

Dean's eyebrow went up. "Now where the hell could you have hidden it?"

"Wouldn't you like to know. And no, not there, you perv."

She patted her fake leg cast and Dean nodded in understanding.

Remembering where they were, he grimaced. "Hey Faith, I'm sorry for getting you booked. This really wasn't part of the plan."

Faith shrugged off his apology. "Don't worry about it. Trust me when I say I know cells pretty well and it's no biggie."

Dean pressed his face closer, the cold steel chilling his cheekbones.

"You fight pretty good, injured and all."

"Yeah, well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm scrappy." Her face reflected levity her tone didn't quite reach.

"Yeah but the way you ducked that guy's fist? That was damn fast."

Faith tensed perceptibly. "I've always been flexible."

Dean had been around Faith long enough to know when to back off. "Flexible, huh? Exactly how flexible are we talking here?"

Faith scowled.

"You know like bedroom-wise, how far can you… go?"

Her features softened. "Oh, baby, I can go all the way."

"Really?"

They both started to laugh at the boyish excitement he'd let out.

"Yeah, kiddo. I really can. If we get outta this jam in one piece I might just have to show you."

"Oh, baby, the only 'might' is gonna be what I'm packing."

Faith rolled her eyes but couldn't help the delicious tingle his husky promise sent down her spine. Dean's eyes lit up knowingly, as he noted the flush to her cheeks.

"Didn't know Faithie girl could blush."

"Shut up. I'm not blushing."

"Yeah, you are."

"Am not."

"Are too."

Their banter was interrupted with the clanging sound of the main outer door, they both stood up quickly and took a step away from the bars.

Two male figures walked into the cells, Dean's shoulders immediately straightening when he recognized his father. The sheriff, a tall bear of a man with a slight paunch, pointed at him.

"This your boy, John?"

"Yeah, that's him."

Dean let out a breath he did not know he'd been holding when John Winchester winked at him as the sheriff opened his cell.

John clapped his son's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. Dean grinned at his father, fighting the urge to hug him.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hey, son."

In unison they turned to look at Faith. Her eyes glittered in the moonlit cell like a cornered feral animal as she watched them.

Dean felt himself tense as he saw her through his father's eyes. A dangerously attractive slender brunette in a silk blue dress and suede high heels, feet planted apart enough to withstand an attack. The fake cast around her left leg looked as out of place on her as being in a jail cell should have. But she didn't appear uncomfortable in her cell; she looked like it was her natural habitat.

"This your girl?" The sheriff asked Dean.

Dean's face split involuntarily into a wide grin. "Yeah, that's my girl."

The sheriff shrugged and pulled out the key to open her cell. Forgetting his father, Dean stood at the doors as Faith stepped out. She slid into his arms naturally. She breathed a sigh of relief in his familiar embrace before pulling away and standing in front of John.

"Hey, Daddy." She smirked before hugging him tightly.

If it had been anybody else Dean would have been worried about John's reaction. This time though it took everything he had not to burst out laughing as his father looked down on the top of Faith's head with shock.

"Hugging works better when you hug the other person back, pops," Faith prodded, not relinquishing her hold.

John looked at Dean helplessly and Dean's eyes twinkled with ill-suppressed mirth. To his secret delight John's arms came up and hugged Faith back. Faith sighed dramatically before pulling away.

"See, that wasn't so bad. Nice to meet you, I'm Faith."

She shook his hand vigorously before she turned to face the sheriff expectantly. "Now can we get the fuck on outta here?"

Dean did burst out laughing then.

-xxx-

Dean sat in John's truck as they waited for Faith to change in the Impala. After Faith had given the sour-faced deputy the finger, John had given them a ride to the Impala, which had still been parked in the casino parking lot.

The ride to the Impala had been spent mostly in silence, with John sending wary glances Faith's way when she wasn't looking, and Dean trying very had not to show his amusement at the whole situation. Faith, for once, had been quiet, watching the Nevada night sky with a contemplative look on her face.

"So how'd the hunt go in Bello?"

Dean's insides clenched at the authoritative tone his father always seemed to slip into so much easier than anything else.

"Demon was dead when I got there."

"Where'd you find Faith?"

"In Bello. She'd been attacked near the seedy motel we were both staying at. When I tried to help her she pulled a knife on me and was gonna use the little life she had left in her to fight me."

John noted the way his son's features softened at the mention of Faith. Kid was in love, whether he knew it or not. John thought about the young girl with the jaded eyes he'd met. He could appreciate why his son was infatuated.

"You still hunting in Reno?"

"Yeah, in between work at the garage. I haven't come across anything I can't handle if that's what you're worried about."

"That's good."

"Yeah, it is. So, Dad, how'd you find us?"

"Bobby."

"Bobby Singer?" Dean asked with piqued interest.

"Yeah, he's old friends with Sheriff Walcott, the guy that let you out of jail."

Dean winced at John's silent criticism. "Yeah, that wasn't supposed to happen."

"How did it happen?"

"We decided to celebrate our winnings from the casino with a little pool."

"You were hustling."

"Gee, Dad, when you say it like that it sounds like you weren't the one who taught me."

"I taught you that skill to survive, son, not to impress some girl you met less than a minute ago."

Dean was saved from having to say anything because Faith had jumped out of the Impala. He pushed open the truck door and started to walk towards her.

John also got out of the truck, noting the jeans, white tank and black leather jacket Faith was now wearing. Cherry red lipstick on and dark tresses flowing over her shoulders, Faith tossed Dean a roll of money. His son caught it expertly like it was a well-practiced dance they had been doing forever.

John glanced at Dean questioningly and Dean shrugged with a grin.

"Half of tonight's winnings for my baby. Don't worry, Daddy, you're still my favorite Winchester. That's why I'm gonna take you out for an early breakfast. I can tell from that half-assed hug you gave me that you're hungry," Faith quipped.

Despite himself, John grinned and, with a bemused shake of his head, got back into his truck as Faith slid into the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean got into the driver's seat and started it.

"I'll follow you!" John called out from his window.

Faith beamed at him with a look on her face that said 'of course you will' as Dean drove past.

Dean glanced at her and then diverted his eyes back onto the road.

"Is there a particular reason you're messing with my old man like that?"

She was going through his cassette collection and didn't even raise her head. "Nope."

"So you're keeping him on his toes because-"

"It's so much fun with you I couldn't resist the chance to do it to two Winchesters for the price of one," Faith mocked.

Dean shook his head. "Faith-"

She studied two tapes intently. "Listen, kiddo, I can tell your old man is former military and not the kind that got married and settled down with 2.4 kids. His kind doesn't respond well to American Pie butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth chicks thinking about banging his kid."

Dean laughed. "So this is your take on meet the parents?"

Faith turned very serious eyes on him. "Your dad met me for the first time while I was behind bars, Dean. There's no do-overs. There's always gonna be that for the first time he met me. I'm doing the best with what we've got here."

"We, huh? Does that mean me getting you arrested isn't a deal-breaker?" Dean asked hopefully.

Faith's dimples flashed as she rolled her eyes and leaned forward to push a cassette into the tape-deck. "I don't know yet, but in case it isn't, I want your old man and I to be five by five."

Faith turned up the volume as Dean responded, turned to him and mouthed 'I can't hear you' as she turned the dial as high as it could go without bursting the speakers.

_Van Morrison's, 'Brown Eyed Girl'_ blared out as Dean reached over and took her hand in his. Faith's fingers curled around his and she squeezed tightly as she sang along to the chorus at the top of her lungs.

-xxx-

They had driven to the dingiest diner they knew and John had been treated to a front row seat viewing of Faith's incredible appetite. Dean had kept suspiciously quiet while John tried to reconcile the size of the girl with the food she was putting away. When John had asked her where she was from, Faith had simply grinned at him with mocking eyes and said "America". Dean had kept his eyes averted from both of them, the urge to laugh nearly choking him.

When John was about to ask another question, Faith had cut him off by explaining that she had a "colorful record" and was not big on sharing the details. "Since both of you don't have a fixed address, can we just agree we're cut from the same cloth and move on?" she said. Dean had witnessed his father be silenced by somebody that wasn't Sammy for the second time that night.

Faith had finished off her statement by asking John if he was still going to eat his food. When he'd shaken his head no, she'd pulled the plate toward her and polished off the contents. John had silently observed her as a he drank his coffee. Dean knew his Dad was observing her so that he could analyze her behavior later, and for once in his life, he did not care what conclusions his father drew.

When Faith was done eating she had leaned over and kissed Dean soundly on the lips, stood up and kissed John on the cheek, giving him a conspiratorial wink before announcing she was gonna go out for a smoke and 'leaving them to it'.

John had surprised Dean with a candid, "I like her." Then proceeded to warn Dean to be careful because there was "something different about Faith" he couldn't put his finger on.

Dean had pointedly asked John if he had spoken to Sam or if there was anything he needed from Dean. John had said no and then Dean had tossed some bills on the table and stood up, a rebellious action the older Winchester had never associated with Dean.

"I've gotta go, Dad. Faith's waiting for me outside and, tough front and all, she's still recovering from her attack in Bello."

John had looked like he wanted to say something about Faith's health but had changed his mind, sliding out of the booth and giving his son an understanding nod.

They'd walked out together to find Faith already sitting in the Impala singing to _Def Leppard's, 'Pour Some Sugar On Me'_. John had gotten into his truck and waved at her with a genuine smile on his face. Faith had blown him a kiss as Dean tore out of the parking lot.

They didn't make it out of the Impala's backseat in their motel parking lot before they had sex for the first time.

-xxx-

_**Present Day**_

Dean walked up the stairs to the motel room he shared with Faith, an anticipatory grin splitting his face. She had been talking about them taking an extended road trip, she had something personal to do in Cleveland and Dean had nowhere more important he had to be. He'd told her they'd wait until he'd saved up a couple hundred more bucks, but duty called. There was no reason why he couldn't take her with him. After all, he'd taken her on a couple hunting jobs without being too specific, leaving her in a relatively respectable bar, hustling pool players while he killed evil things. When he got back, she'd always been at the bar, waiting for him while she drank some of her winnings.

He stuck the key in the door and paused for a second. Something seemed off. Making sure his gun was within easy reach he turned the key and then pushed the door open.

She was sitting at the kitchen counter, dressed in a black leather jacket, an empty and crumpled pack of smokes and her cellphone on the counter-top. Her backpack and a duffel bag formed two eerily final humps by her booted left foot.

Dean felt his chest seize in shocked pain.

Swallowing convulsively he forced himself to speak. "What's going on?"

Faith shrugged, cracking a smile that didn't reach her eyes, "Time to motor."

Dean grinned, telling himself he was overreacting. "Well, sugar, why didn't you pack my stuff too? Hang on a sec, let me get my duffel."

Dean strode over to their bed, where all his freshly laundered clothes rested in a neatly folded pile. Skirting the bed he reached under it for his duffel bag and tossed it on the bed.

Faith closed her eyes and sighed, "Dean."

He picked up a couple shirts and arranged his clothes at the bottom of the bag neatly, not wanting to wrinkle them.

"_Dean_."

He stopped what he was doing and turned toward her.

"It's time for _me_ to motor. _Alone_."

Dean abandoned the bag and walked over to her, a look of hurt and disbelief on his face.

She shrugged with a nonchalance she was far from feeling, and rose from her stool. Walking over to the mini-oven, she pulled out a plate with his sandwich and set it on the countertop. Dean's eyebrows went up and he sat down heavily on her vacated stool as she opened the fridge and pulled out a beer, which she cracked open and handed to him.

Running a nervous hand through her dark tresses she eyed him coolly.

"A roadtrip across America, settling down in some sleepy hollow? Come on, kiddo, that's not me and it's_ definitely_ not you…We both knew that this day was gonna come eventually."

Dean stared at her incredulously; he was at a complete loss for words. He automatically brought the beer to his lips and took a healthy swig.

"If your business in Cleveland couldn't wait Faith you could have just said so."

Faith took her cell phone off the counter and pocketed it.

"It's not about Cleveland. From one legal-lite citizen to another, I've just got shit to do, places to be, laws to break, yadda yadda yadda."

Dean held the beer bottle so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Just like that, huh?"

Faith shifted her weight from one foot to another. "Just like that."

Dean nodded slowly. "Okay, that's your excuse. What's the real reason?"

Faith narrowed her eyes at him. "Dude, we met, you saved my life, we shacked up together, fucked like rabbits and now it's time for me to go. That's all there is to it."

"Twice."

"What?"

"I saved your life _twice_, busted you out of hospital, _nursed_ you back to health these last 6 weeks and now that you're as good as new you're fucking bailing."

Faith smiled at him coldly. "Oh, don't make it sound like you didn't get sufficiently rewarded for your efforts."

Dean's face darkened, "You did not just fucking say that to me."

"I thought I'd do you a solid and tell you to your face as opposed to, I don't know, leaving you a note-"

"_Do me a solid_? You call this bullshit doing me a solid? What's this really about, Faith? You scared to actually care about someone and let them in? Is that it? You scared to be honest for _once _in your fucking life?"

Faith bent down and hefted her bags, one on each shoulder. "I've gotta go and this is completely pointless."

Dean stood up and blocked her way. "We said we'd let it all out tonight and I get home and your bags are packed. If this is about Sunnydale and Stockton, I don't judge you."

Faith's eyes widened in shock. "How do you know about Sunnydale and Stockton?" There was an edge to her voice Dean hadn't heard since she'd woken up from her coma, but it was much scarier now that she was physically fit again.

"You think I wouldn't check up on you? I'm not an idiot, Faith."

Faith's eyes darkened for a second before she bestowed her most saccharine smile on him, "So you went behind my back and checked up on me, I got itchy feet and I'm bailing… who were we trying to kid here? It's true what they say, a tiger don't change its stripes."

Dean's face softened and he hated himself for what he was about to do. "Faith, _please_. Don't go. Whatever it is, we can-"

She rolled her eyes. "Spare me the rom-com bullshit. We had a good time but now _I_ gotta go and there's nothing you can say or do to stop me. That's all there is to it."

"You don't mean that."

"Don't I?"

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, before Dean backed down. Taking a step away from her, he went to sit back down on his stool and pulled the sandwich toward him. Faith watched him warily.

"You've made your point. So you wanna wait til I'm done my sandwich so I can give you a ride to the train station?"

Faith was confused. Had he just changed his mind about wanting her to stay, just like that?

"Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks. My train doesn't leave for another hour."

Dean took a bite of his sandwich and started to eat. If the bitch wanted to play hardball he could give as good as he got.

By the time he was done eating, Dean's Teflon Wall of Imperturbability was back up. He chugged the rest of his beer and got up, gesturing for Faith to precede him. She picked up her bags again and led the way out of the motel room without a backward glance.

The car ride to the train station was rife with tension and unspoken emotions. The cold bravado Faith had projected from the second Dean had stepped through the door had ebbed and she was wondering if this was a mistake. If she was making a mistake. Dean knew about her criminal record in Sunnydale and about her stint at Stockton and he didn't care.

Despite herself she asked him the question that had been plaguing her since his revelation: "So how long have you known about Sunnydale and Stockton?"

"Five weeks."

Cracks splintered their way through her words. "What did you find out?"

Dean spared her a glance and then diverted his attention back to the road.

"You were suspected of murdering Alan Finch, you were involved in a knife fight that left you in a coma for eight months, you caused criminal damage when you woke up before you ran to LA and killed two guys. Then you turned yourself in, confessed to the murders and you were sent to Stockton where you stayed for a handful of years before you broke out of prison. You were exonerated for your crimes for some reason, but that information was locked by the NSA."

Faith couldn't help the frog that formed in her throat as she heard her sordid past described so matter of factly by a man she thought the world of. There was no judgment in his tone, and this conversely made her feel worse. Steeling her shoulders she discreetly took a deep breath.

"Anything you wanna ask me about that?"

Dean silently mouthed her question and shook his head, an incredulous smirk twisting his lips. "Don't matter now, does it?"

Faith studied his profile for a while before looking out her own window, acid bubbled its way up her throat.

"Guess it doesn't."

-xxxx-

As soon as the Impala pulled into the train station, Faith shoved her door open and jumped out. Dean stopped the car and circled to the trunk, popping it open and handing Faith her bags.

She shouldered both of them easily and flashed him an empty smile.

"I'm not big on the chick flick moments, so uh… thanks for saving my life, and for all the memories, hot stuff."

Dean's hands curled into fists and he stuffed them into his jacket pockets, to stop himself from reaching out for her. He was so torn up he wasn't sure if he wanted to hold her or throttle her. Faith stared at him awkwardly, and Dean couldn't even muster a grin as she shrugged and then turned away. She strode into the station without looking back.

He watched her walk away, his heart shattering into a million pieces as the automatic fiber-glass doors slid shut behind her. Without thinking, Dean slammed the trunk then the driver's door shut, and ran after her.

Racing into the melee of people that were milling just inside the station, Dean swore volubly as he realised he had lost her. Dean searched the boards for Cleveland and when he found the platform number, raced up the escalator and across the station just in time to see the train pulling out.

Grabbing the back of his head Dean cursed loudly. Minx had lied to him about the train time. With one anguished look at the train, Dean strode back out of the station and into the Impala with a confidence he was far from feeling.

-xxx-

Faith backtracked to her locker at the station, and pulled out her Slayer gear and cash. Shoving the weapons into her duffel bag, she strode purposefully to a ticket booth and bought a ticket to Las Vegas. The train was leaving in a few minutes. Dean probably hadn't followed her into the station but just in case he had, he wouldn't know where she was going or when.

Faith paused by a bench and stared at her train. She forced herself not to think about Dean and everything else she was leaving behind. Buffy and her had a job to do, the mission was all that mattered right now, she could think about Dean when they'd completed that mission. And if she lived.

Boarding the train, Faith looked out at the Reno platform and knew that she would never come back to this city if she could help it. Her phone rang and she scrambled to pick it up, her treacherous heart hoping it was Dean.

"Hey!" Faith said breathlessly.

"Faith, it's Buffy. Your plane ticket to London will be waiting for you at the Las Vegas airport. You need to get here ASAP. This thing just tried to kill Dawnie."

"Shit, is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's got a broken arm but she'll live. We need to talk strategy. You got a pen and paper?"

Faith rifled through her backpack for the stationery. Unearthing a pen she uncapped it and nodded to herself. "Okay, shoot."

She was so busy writing down what Buffy said, she did not notice Dean walking past her train as it pulled out of the platform.

-xxx-

Dean sat outside the motel for hours, drinking Jim Bean and trying to work up the courage to go back in without her.

He was so numb from her betrayal he couldn't even muster the courage to hate her just yet. When the last drop of whisky was gone, and his bladder was pressing insistently for relief, Dean sighed and pushed open the door to the Impala. Locking the car, he gave the car a pat and walked up to the motel room.

Pushing the door open, he could not help the momentary flicker of hope that Faith was in there and the last four hours were a figment of his imagination. The empty motel room mocked him silently.

With a snort of self-disgust, Dean went to take a leak, avoiding the bathroom mirror the whole time. As he washed his hands in the sink, he could not help but think that for a minute, he had felt like he was home.

This motel had felt like home and it wasn't because it was relatively classy in comparison to all the other places he'd stayed, but because of Faith. She had felt like home, like family. And just like the rest of his family - John, Sammy - she'd found it so fucking easy to walk out on him and leave him alone. Dean splashed some water on his face then looked up into the mirror. He smashed his fist into the glass, fragmenting his reflection into multiple slivers. Rinsing his bloodied fist under the faucet, Dean shut it with his left hand and, grabbing a clean towel, wrapped it around his injured right knuckles.

Stumbling out of the bathroom Dean grimly resumed packing his clothes. Picking up the last pair of jeans he shoved them on top of all his other clothes absently as he noticed Faith's six inch Spanish blade on top of a note. He picked up the note which read, '_Just in case you find yourself staying in a skid-mark motel_'.

Dean palmed the blade with his right hand, and crumpled the note with his left. A smirk tugged his lips as unbidden moisture sprang up in his eyes. She really was a piece of work.

Sitting down on the bed, Dean looked around the apartment and blinked the moisture away. His phone rang. He pulled it out of his back pocket and saw John's name on the call display.

"Yeah."

"You get my email, son?"

"Yes, sir."

"This is gonna be a big hunt, you gotta haul ass. Where's Faith?"

Dean looked around the room and the blade in his hand. "Faith's gone, Dad."

John Winchester hesitated on the other end. "Sorry to hear that."

Dean shrugged at the empty room. "Yeah, well, it was only a matter of time."

"True. Now get moving, you should be in Oregon by late afternoon tomorrow. I'm counting on you, Dean."

Dean smiled bitterly. "Sure thing, Dad. I'm on my way."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Fic: Gimme Shelter (5/5)**_  
><strong>Title:<strong> Gimme Shelter  
><strong>Author:<strong> Dulcedeusex  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I DO NOT OWN. All recognizable characters and situations belong to their respective owners and I make no profit off this.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Fandom's:<strong> Supernatural/Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Dean Winchester, Faith Lehane, Buffy, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, Gwendolyn Post, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Michael

**Pairing(s):** Faith/Dean

**Spoilers:** SPN seasons 1-4 and elements of Season 5 (most specifically post 'My Bloody Valentine' and Dean's plea for help, BtVS post-Chosen, AtS post-Not Fade Away  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Five years after Faith and Dean met, fell in love and split up, Faith and Buffy share a vision involving THE apocalypse.

**Author's Notes:** This story is dedicated to the amazing dollarformyname, without her this would never have been published and if it had it would have been so crap! I'm also dedicating it to all the SPN/BtVS/AtS crossover writers whose works inspired me to try this in the first place.

_**War, children, it's just a shot away  
>It's just a shot away<br>War, children, it's just a shot away  
>It's just a shot away<strong>_ – Gimme Shelter, Rolling Stones

_**Now the only thing a gambler needs  
>Is a suitcase and trunk<br>And the only time he's satisfied  
>Is when he's on a drunk<strong>_

Oh mother tell your children  
>Not to do what I have done<br>Spend your lives in sin and misery  
>In the House of the Rising Sun<p>

Well, I got one foot on the platform  
>The other foot on the train<br>I'm goin' back to New Orleans  
>To wear that ball and chain<p>

__ – House of the Rising Sun, Creedence Clearwater Revival

**GIMME SHELTER – EPILOGUE**

_February 2010_

Faith was standing in the old Sunnydale High library, Wesley and Gwendolyn Post sitting at a table poring over a book intently. Faith stared down at the cotton white sun-dress she was wearing and looked back over at the two Watchers.

"Faith, there you are. Why on Earth are you barefoot?" Gwendolyn said in her crisp British tone.

"Sorry. I should go and get changed."

"Oh, don't worry about it. I suppose with what we're facing it won't make a bit of difference what you're wearing," Gwendolyn brushed her off.

"Faith, take a look at these Enochian texts. They prophesise about a war between Heaven and Hell. Unlike your choice of wardrobe, I think you'll find them very relevant to what we're facing," Wesley said impatiently.

Faith took a step toward the table, and then the earth started to shake. Before she could reach out to hold onto the table, Gwendolyn Post went up in flames and Faith was standing on Glory's tower. She whipped around to look behind her and saw Buffy striding toward her purposefully. Faith knew how this was supposed to end but she wasn't going to let it happen.

"B, no! Don't take another step!" Faith yelled.

It started to rain, silver lightning searing through the sky as Buffy, dressed in grey slacks and a white sweater, stopped where Faith had told her to.

"Faith, I've gotta try. _We've_ gotta try and save the world!" Buffy yelled over the rain.

Faith shook her head turning to face the end of the tower where two men stood. They were both tall but the shorter of the two had bow-legs that were very familiar to her.

Faith squinted into the rain, her cotton-dress getting plastered to her skin.

"Dean?"

He was holding himself in front of the taller man. Faith knew instantaneously it was Sam Winchester. She took a step closer to the two men and the tower shook and rattled under the movement.

"What's wrong? What's going on?" Faith asked.

She heard the sound of a sword being freed from its scabbard and turned around just in time to see Buffy launch herself at the two brothers. Faith tried to block her path but was knocked aside. She went over the edge of the tower and fell but before she could land on the broken rocks and cement, a man with impossibly blue eyes in a trench coat caught her. The sound of large but invisible wings beating behind him was oddly comforting.

"Castiel," Faith said with recognition.

He gave her a regretful, solemn look as he flew them back up the tower. Faith's feet touched the platform just in time to see Sam fling his brother backwards and across to land at her feet. Faith reached down to help him up just as Buffy called out her name.

"B! No!" Faith screamed as she ran over to Buffy, who was being held in one spot by some invisible force. As the thunder rumbled and lightning tore the purplish-gray sky, Sam stabbed Buffy in the heart with her sword.

Faith ran towards the two figures like she was in slow motion. She could hear her heart thudding in her chest, feel her breath puffing out of her and the vibrations of the platform under her bare feet as she ran toward Buffy.

Faith got to her sister Slayer as she choked out blood. "Faith, you've gotta do it. You've got to kill Sam. He's Lucifer's true vessel."

"B, don't talk, lemme see." Faith spoke hysterically as she stroked stray strands of blonde hair off Buffy's face.

"No time for me, but you've got miles to go before you sleep," Buffy said before her body crumpled in Faith's arms.

Faith held onto Buffy's lifeless body in shock. Then, hugging it one last time, pulled the sword out of her chest. Letting Buffy's body fall over the edge she whipped around to face Sam, who was watching her with a combination of fascination and mockery.

She held her sword at the ready as Sam launched himself at her and Dean ran behind his brother screaming, "Faith! Sammy! NOOOOOOO!"

Faith ran to meet Sam head on, shoving the sword into his chest with all her might as they tumbled over the edge of the tower and into a glowing mass of energy. The pain was excruciating and just when Faith thought it was going to kill her, she tumbled to the ground in field in the middle of nowhere.

Scrambling to her feet, Faith looked around the veritable wasteland filled with corpses of angels, demons, humans and Slayerettes. Holding her sword up Faith leaned against a lone Acacia tree and vomited heavily. Her cotton-dress was stained with Buffy and Sam's blood and she was still barefoot.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Faith looked up to see Dean, or someone who looked like Dean with wings and a sword that blazed with fire every time it caught the sun.

"H-h-how?"

"My name is Michael and if you want to prevent this, I need your help." Michael spoke in a language Faith did not know but for some reason could understand.

Faith shaded her eyes, it physically hurt to look at him. "B-b-but how?"

"Dean is my true vessel but if he cannot do what needs to be done, I am going to need you."

Faith shook her head in denial. "Why me?"

Michael smiled benevolently. "Because you were chosen."

Faith tried to back away and Michael held out his hand, instantly causing her to fall to her knees.

"I've already got a gig as a Slayer, remember? And I love Dean; you can't ask me to kill his baby brother."

"Sam is Lucifer's true vessel. He cannot be allowed to live."

"So what are you going to do to me?"

Michael brought out his sword and touched its tip to her right and left shoulders before touching her forehead. Faith raised a trembling chin up to meet his eyes as he pressed his hand to her chest, causing a white-hot energy to pour out of her.

With a start, Faith wrenched herself awake, sitting up in her sweat-drenched sheets and took deep gasping breaths as she clutched her chest where Michael had touched her.

The sound of Lady Gaga's "Just Dance" filtering out of her cellphone made Faith jump. Reaching out a shaky hand she flipped the phone open. It was Buffy.

"B," Faith's voice wavered with fear and relief.

"So you saw it, too."

Faith nodded to the empty room. "Yeah, I did."

"We gotta find those guys. Who were they?"

Faith sighed and swallowed convulsively, the after-effects of the vivid vision still with her. She ran a nervous hand through her hair.

"The shorter guy's an old friend. The taller one is his little brother. I'm gonna hit the shower and hop on a plane outta Turin ASAP."

She crawled out of bed and stomped into her bathroom, opening the shower faucet as she spoke.

"Is the seal secured?" Buffy asked in her usual tone.

Faith rolled her eyes. "Duh, of course it is."

"I can hear you rolling your eyes through the phone, Faith. I'm just asking," Buffy said with a laugh.

"Yeah, I know. I still get a little defensive, okay?" Faith said with a shrug.

"How are we gonna find this old friend of yours? Dean, right?" Buffy's tone was serious again.

Faith looked in the mirror that was rapidly misting from her hot shower; she looked like she'd been to Hell and back.

"Easy peasy, B. I've got his blood."

===FIN===


End file.
